Of Dragons and Amphibians
by Scribblesnstuff
Summary: Interesting things happen when a graduate student discovers that she's been supressing a mutation for the past several years, and when a certain green-skinned mutant gets kidnapped by the Friends of Humanity. Ultimate Toad sprinkled with Movie Toad/OC
1. Chapter 1

This story draws from several of the X-men cartoons, and the movie but as the movie and Wolverine and the X-Men are the main sources it is billed as a crossover between the two. All comments and criticism are welcome but please keep all criticism constructive!

Disclaimer: The X-Men are the property of Marvel which is the property of Disney…I only own Cheyenne and her immediate friends and family.

8 Years Ago

"You sure you're alright, sweetie? You look awful pale." Henry Jackson inquired as he pulled to a stop in front of the eastern side of the campus.

"It's just a headache, Dad, and I have an algebra test today. I don't want to miss it." She'd heard tales that Ms. Rogers' make-up tests were insanely hard. A friendly cellist had told her that she would rather go through food-poisoning again than have to take one of Ms. Rogers' make-up tests. The spinster, cat-lady of a math teacher subscribed to the policy that students who were absent on the day of the test were missing on purpose in order to get more study time or to get inside information off of their fellow students. Cheyenne had decided then and there that she would never allow herself to be subjected to algebraic torture. Better to take the test sick than to fail. Math was not Cheyenne Jackson's favorite subject and the tests regularly assigned by Ms. Rogers were hard enough as it was. The sound of rap music pierced violently through her cranium and she visibly winced.

"Honey?" Cheyenne's father asked in concern as his fourteen year old slung her backpack over her shoulders and slid out of the truck. "Want me to pick you up after your test?"

"It could get better." The volume of the music increased and she looked around for the noise polluter to give them a death glare. "I'll call you if it's still bad after the test." She tromped around to the driver's side of the red Ford and kissed her father on the cheek through the open window. "Love ya, Daddy."

"Love you too, baby. Good luck on the test and feel better!"

"Will do." The teenager shot her father a grin despite the splitting pain in her skull and walked towards the Fine Arts building, following the path she took every morning. She focused on the pavement beneath her feet. Everything was just so loud, even the soft whisper of her sneakers hitting the pavement seemed to echo in her ears. 'This has to be a migraine.' She thought, grimacing as a senior boy slammed his car door and locked his automobile with the accompaniment of a high-pitched beep nearby. 'Migraines make you really noise sensitive, I think. Must be a migraine.' She determined, opening the door and shutting it carefully behind her. It disturbed her a little bit that she could hear the whirr of the air conditioner so clearly as she walked past the choir and art rooms to one of the largest rooms in the building. The room probably took up a good quarter of the one-story building and was identical to the room occupied by the band next door. Instrument lockers around old-fashioned soundproof walls insulated the room on the left and right sides.

The building could really do with new sound-proofing, but it was doubtful it would be getting it anytime soon. Fine Arts tended to take a backseat to Athletics when funds were allocated in most schools and this sentiment held true in the relatively small community of Brontsam, Texas. Cheyenne, despite a casual love of sports from growing up watching them with her father, was irritated by the unjust budget distribution even before she became a member of the orchestra. Injustice was injustice.

It was twenty minutes until the bell and several people were already in their seats and chatting, a few were uncased and warming up. She walked straight through the door to the edge of the semi-circle and the rather beaten looking upright piano resting behind the violin sections. Mr. Greene had known her mother when she had taught at Brontsam High School and had been delighted to learn from Henry Jackson when he'd taken his car in for an oil change the year before that Cheyenne was as skilled a pianist as her mother. Personable mechanic that he was, Henry Jackson had acted as the catalyst leading to his daughter signing up for orchestra for her freshman year of high school.

Cheyenne loved being in the orchestra. Her highly competitive nature had steered her away from being anything other than a spectator of organized sports at an early age. The pain of losing and the sense of failure it brought were simply too much for her. She had found her niche in orchestra. It was a cooperative endeavor at which she couldn't 'lose' and it nurtured her love of music.

The freshman dropped her backpack and sank down onto the piano bench, feeling weak. All the noise reverberated in her ears and it smelled like someone had shattered their rosin right next to the piano. 'Can rosin go bad?' She thought dimly, looking around for a sticky, dusty white mess. 'It shouldn't smell this…strong.'

Cheyenne grimaced again as the noise level in the building increased, signaling the return of the marching band from their morning practice on the football field. Trying her level best to ignore the relentless pounding in her skull, she trained her eyes on the doorway and watched the members of the band walk past and some orchestra members enter. A flash of sandy red caught her eye as one of the violinists who'd been sitting practicing walked to the doorway. A surge of happiness brought a smile to her face as the sophomore boy stopped a member of the band walking by with a snare drum slung in front of him. The drummer had hair a few shades darker than his older brother so it was more of a flaming red and bright blue eyes.

To her embarrassment, the member of the drum line noticed her smiling at him and to her joy, he smiled back. One minute Cheyenne was looking at them then all of a sudden she was listening to them. With perfect clarity she heard the snare drummer ask his older brother who she was. Then it wasn't just their conversation in her ears, but everyone in the room's. She could hear the first chair violist arguing with her stand partner, a flutist telling a joke as she walked by the doorway, the sounds of paper rubbing against paper as a boy rifled through his music and the tumblers of a lock as someone opened their locker. She covered her ears in vain. It wasn't just hearing them. She could smell everything - sweat, cologne, perfume, rosin, shampoo, soap, or worse a lack thereof. A cry of anguish left her lips as she toppled off her seat, overcome by the information her senses were providing her with. Tears of pain escaped her shut eyes as she lay motionless on the cold tile of the floor, willing it all to go away. The sounds, the smells - it was all too much.

'Just stop. Please stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop!'

She whimpered as a voice sounded above her. He smells like sweat, Old Spice and band uniforms. Her lower lip quivered as warm hands grasped her face.

"Are you okay? Shh, shh, it's alright." The owner of the warm hands told her soothingly.

"What happened?"

"She just fell off the bench?"

"Is she okay?"

"Somebody get Mr. Greene!"

There was a circle of people around her now. She could hear their hushed whispers and the combination of their individual scents rushed her nose.

"My head…" Cheyenne groaned. The voices, smells and sounds were colliding in her brain in a painful mash of information. To make matters worse, there was now a smarting, aching pressure in her upper back which she hazily attributed to hitting the floor.

"She hit her head." The hands on her face lightly began to massage her temples. "Did someone get a teacher?"

There was a murmur of affirmatives from the crowd.

Another groan came from Cheyenne. 'It only takes one person to answer a question.'

"Just focus on my voice." The guy holding onto her coached her. His tone was soothing, but Cheyenne detected the under-current of panic.

'He thinks I'm going to pass out.' The thought scared her. She had gleaned enough from movies, books and the news to know that passing out when something was wrong with your head wasn't a good idea. There had been a story on the news once about a woman who passed out with a severe migraine and woke up with amnesia. Frightened, Cheyenne Jackson did as the owner of the hands was bidding her and focused on his voice and the feel of his slightly sweaty hands on her face.

The frantic beating of her heart slowed gradually to normal as the voices except for the one whispering to her faded to a buzz and the smells dissipated from her nose. Warily she cracked open an eyelid, expecting her headache to pounce. It didn't. She opened her other eye and sighed in relief. Her headache was gone.

"You okay?"

Cheyenne's eyes focused on the face above her. She smiled up at the bright blue eyes. "Yeah, thanks. Migraine headache, I think…thanks for talking me out of it."

The red-headed snare drummer smiled widely down at her. "Anytime."

Cheyenne Jackson blushed as he helped her to her feet. The dimples from his smile were causing butterflies to flit about merrily in her stomach.

Present Day

"Cheyenne, they're here!" Her father announced, rapping lightly on the bathroom door.

"Be ready in just a minute!" She hollered back. Puckering her lips she lightly applied a layer of lip gloss, smacking her lips together to evenly distribute the cherry scented and flavored substance. Cherry was a flavor the twenty-two year old could take or leave, but her boyfriend loved it. Casting a quick glance in the mirror, she tossed the lip gloss tube in her purse and emerged from the bathroom.

A chorus of wolf-whistles greeted her as she walked into the entry-way.

"Lookin' good chica!" Angela Rodriguez exclaimed, rushing forward to hug her best friend.

"You look pretty great yourself!" Cheyenne grinned, hugging the twenty-three year old back. Angela was the same age as her boyfriend Allen Malloy, the older brother of Cheyenne's boyfriend Jack.

"How typical. My beautiful girlfriend gets all the attention and no one appreciates how well-groomed we are." Allen Malloy commented to the blonde boy standing next to him.

"Harsh, man, harsh." Dan Evans agreed, shaking his shaggy blonde head. Dan was a sturdy, mellow sort of guy who had wielded the bass drum in the high school marching band alongside Jack in the drum line. His friendly, easy-going, "big puppy dog" demeanor had, in addition to the fact that his family owned a bakery, earned him the nickname Mr. Muffins. "I put on a clean shirt and everything." He tugged on his black t-shirt demonstratively.

Henry Jackson nodded sagely. "Always the man's job to look good in the background."

Allen Malloy chuckled. "So true."

"Mr. Muffins! Allen!" Cheyenne exclaimed, moving forward to hug her friends.

"Groomed?" Angela nudged her boyfriend playfully. "What are you? A horse?"

"He may as well be, carting your shopping bags around and looking good in the background like a pretty pony." Dan remarked teasingly, releasing Cheyenne from a bear hug.

"I am so mistreated." Allen agreed as his girlfriend laughingly planted a kiss on his cheek, looking anything but.

"Well, I'm all ready. Time to get this show on the road!"

Mr. Jackson pulled his daughter in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Y'all be safe. You're driving, Allen?"

"Yes, sir. All part of the evil genius' plan."

"Muahahaha!" Cheyenne cackled, mimicking the stereotypical evil villain laugh and rubbing her hands together.

Mr. Jackson trailed behind them, shaking his head at their antics as they walked out the door and piled into Allen's beat-up black SUV, waving good-bye as they headed an hour east to Austin.

Today was Jack Malloy's birthday and Cheyenne had been planning a surprise party for him for months. The scheme had been carefully orchestrated and the stage set. Allen had left their shared apartment that morning because 'Angela had gotten into a bad wreck' and though she wasn't hurt she 'needed him'. With an eye for authenticity, Angela had called her boyfriend that morning heaving theatrical sobs just loud enough for Jack to hear. Dan had called Jack at the beginning of the week to tell him he wouldn't be able to get off of work that night and Cheyenne had called him the night before pretending to be sick.

She could hardly contain her excitement, anticipating Jack's pleasure at the surprise party they were going to spring on him. Mr. and Mrs. Malloy weren't celebrating his birthday until he drove home next week because Mr. Malloy genuinely had to work so Jack would truly think he was going to spend his birthday alone.

Dan laughed at Cheyenne as she eagerly released the buckle of her seatbelt the minute Allen pulled into the parking lot of the solid old apartment building. "Excited much?"

A grin was the only reply the surprise party planner offered as she hopped out of the car.

"Duh, she is!" Angela replied, climbing out of the front seat. "Jack hasn't been home since…what? Spring break?"

"Yeah." Cheyenne smoothed out the sundress she wore. "It'll be nice to talk without the aid of a computer or telephone."

"Yeah. Talk. That's why you broke out the cherry lip gloss." Angela teased, playfully tugging on a lock of her friend's dark brown hair.

Allen joined the group congregating at the back of his SUV, bearing a large red bow similar to what you would find on the fake 'presents', otherwise known as jauntily wrapped cardboard boxes, that malls are so fond of using as holiday decorations.

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow. "I hate to tell you this Allen, but your bow is missing a birthday gift."

"Nonsense!" Allen declared, sticking the bow on his brother's girlfriend's head without further ado. Angela produced a piece of computer paper and a roll of tape from her purse. With a flourish she affixed the paper to the collar of her friend's white sundress.

" 'Happy birthday, Jack! Love, Angela, Allen & Dan.' " Cheyenne read aloud, looking down at the note taped to her. "Cute guys, real cute."

Dan grinned. "We thought so."

"The perfect present for Jack." Allen agreed.

"Now, c'mon! Let's go surprise Jack." Angela bubbled happily. "I can't wait to see his reaction."

Laughing and joking, the three friends entered the apartment building with Allen leading the way. Allen furtively stuck his head up the stairwell, avoiding the elevator. He then looked behind him and motioned for his friends to follow.

"Hey 007," Cheyenne addressed Allen as he maneuvered stealthily up the stairs in a stage whisper, "Jack wouldn't use the stairs unless the building was on fire."

"That's why we're using them." Allen replied defensively.

"Yeah." Dan said supportively, looking a little guilty.

Angela giggled. "They don't get the chance to play secret agent much."

"Obviously." Cheyenne remarked with a smile.

"He could decide to use the stairs today." Dan suggested.

Cheyenne snorted, causing Angela's giggles to turn into laughter and sparking Cheyenne to laughter.

"If you giggling girls would remain at the rear of the group." Allen instructed, assuming an air of good-natured indignation.

"Yessir." Angela replied with mock seriousness and Cheyenne saluted.

The group of friends climbed up to the third floor with Allen and Dan in the front "scouting" and the girls behind them, exchanging smiles and stifling giggles as they indulged their friends' boyish inclinations. They spilled out of the stairwell and paused before the door to the apartment as Allen fished out his keys out of his pocket. All of them stood hushed and expectant lest Jack be inside. If he wasn't home then the plan was to decorate the apartment with a few party supplies Allen had hidden away whenever Jack was absent from their shared living area.

Hearing a noise as Allen opened the door, Dan immediately pulled Cheyenne behind him to hide "Jack's present". Cheyenne rolled her eyes at Angela, who was standing next to Allen with an un-obscured view of the doorway. The sudden disappearance of Angela's answering grin and the shocked expression that stole away the happiness from her normally cheerful face was enough to alert Cheyenne that something was amiss.

"What is it?" She stepped out from behind Dan. "What's -" Her voice echoed in silence as she made eye contact with the guilty blue eyes of her boyfriend. Cheyenne's world narrowed down to the vision of her boyfriend lying atop an almost naked blonde woman on the old couch she'd helped him load into Allen's van to bring up here almost four years before. His hand was halted at the waist band of his boxers - all that he wore. Tears pooled unshed behind her eyes and as her self-control wavered a part of her that had been consistently suppressed sprang to life. A shaky breath escaped her as a sensation she'd attributed to chronic migraines affirmed itself in her body. The odor emanating form the two people in the apartment caused a wave of nausea and disgust to well-up in the pit of her stomach. Turning her back on her former boyfriend of six years, not needing super hearing to hear Allen slam the door angrily or Angela shout her name in concern, she sprinted to the stairwell.

Cheyenne hurtled down the stairs, fighting back the tears as she rushed down to the first floor and out the main door of the apartment building into the city. Heedless of the stares of passers-by, Cheyenne kept running until her brain caught up to her unchecked emotions after four blocks and she ducked into a nearby alley with the intent to call Angela.

As she skidded to a stop, the distraught girl tripped over a cardboard box.

"Ouch!" Cheyenne winced, pulling herself into a sitting position to get a good look at her stinging knee. The metallic smell of her own blood, painfully strong in her nose, matched the sight of her skinned-up right knee. Cringing, the young woman reached with shaking hands for the purse slung around her shoulders. 'Why can I smell like this? Am I just in shock?' Finding a Kleenex, Cheyenne pushed those thoughts back and reached for her banged up knee.

The high-pitched whine of a car alarm heaved her over the edge as she held the tissue to her knee. Cheyenne Mae Jackson became fully cognizant of what had lain dormant within her, for as the obnoxious beeping pierced her keen hearing it acted as a match to the fuse of the maelstrom of emotion roiling inside her. She lost control.

'We've got the place pretty well staked out now so we're going after the info tonight. Gumbo knows his stuff.'

'I'm not surprised to hear it.' Charles Xavier replied, smiling bemusedly. The Thieves Guild's reputation in criminal circles was clearly well-earned and Remy LeBeau certainly hadn't been the least of their number. Remy LeBeau, or Gambit, had not only been skilled at thievery but had enjoyed it and if not for certain distasteful marriage arrangements would probably never have found his way to the X-Men.

'We'll call if there's trouble. Hopefully this'll help us figure out what those slime bags are up to.'

'Hopefully. Good luck, Wolverine.'

'Thanks, Chuck.'

The telepath broke the mental connection and was in the process of lifting the helmet linking him to Cerebro off his head when the wave of pain and anxiety hit him. Securing the device back to his head, Xavier closed his eyes and focused.

'What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I have no clue where I am. My cell phone's dead. I'm a mutant. What'll I do? Can I hide this? Will they just pop out at random? Where did they go? HOW CAN I HIDE THIS? And Jack…'

Charles took a cleansing breath, steadying himself at the onslaught of rapid, panicked thoughts and the brief burst of pain. 'The poor child.' He thought, shaking his head in sympathy as the situation became apparent to him.

'Cheyenne, my name is Charles Xavier and I'm here to help you.' Sensing her distress and eager to prevent adding to her emotional turmoil, he sent her a mental projection of himself connected to Cerebro. 'Have no fear, you haven't gone insane nor are you hearing voices. I'm a mutant, like yourself, with telepathic abilities. The machine you see me connected to acts as an amplifier that allows for long-distance communication.'

'Oh.' Cheyenne replied, blinking as she processed this and feeling soothed by the calm, measured voice. 'Then you're reading my mind? You…know what happened?'

'Yes,' the older man affirmed gently, 'and I apologize for invading your privacy in this manner, but it was necessary in order to help you.'

'That's fine.' Relief welled up in her that at least she wouldn't have to explain the situation.

'I'm going to gather a few people and we will fly down to get you as quickly as we can.'

'You have a plane?'

'I run an organization dedicated to helping all mutants in need and furthering the way for a society where all people can coexist in peace.' Xavier responded, answering the question behind her question. 'The mainstay of our organization is a school for young mutants which emphasizes teaching them how to control their gifts in order to function in society. In fact, I would like to discuss our organization further with you once you're safely home.'

'I'd like that.' Cheyenne thought back, intrigued despite her main focus at the moment - which was to get out of the middle of nowhere.

'You appear to have sufficient shade; do you have any water?'

The young woman fished through the purse that had miraculously stayed slung around her neck. With a sigh of relief she found the plastic water bottle that she'd stashed away that morning in case she got thirsty on the drive-up. 'Yes.'

'Excellent. Would you like me to call your father?'

'That'd be great.' Cheyenne felt a bit of her worry eased, one of her many concerns had been that her father was probably going insane with worry…to say nothing of Angela, Dan and Jack. Poor Angela was probably in hysterics and her father probably had the cops out looking for her. She gave him the number, grateful for him asking rather than rummaging through her brain for it, and added a request. 'Please tell him I'm fine and ask him to call my friends and tell them I'm okay.'

'I will.' The telepath acknowledged. 'We'll be there as quickly as we can. In the mean time, stay hydrated and I want you to try to relax and attempt to extend your wings. I'm bringing along someone who can fly, but it will certainly be easier to get you if you can fly down on your own.'

'I'll try.'

With another word of caution and a promise to get there as speedily as possible, Cheyenne felt the presence of Charles Xavier leave her mind.

"Well, that was a new experience." The twenty-two year old grimaced at the sound of her voice, which was hoarse from crying and sleep. She remembered Jack - she swallowed and shook her head - the alley, and the car alarm and completely freaking out. The rest was a vague blur of tears and wind streaming through her hair - which was now minus a tie and completely bedraggled, she confirmed by running her hand through her hair and getting it caught on a snarl.

"So then I must've landed here and fallen asleep." Cheyenne continued her thought process out loud, rising and moving back from the mouth of the tiny cavern. After waking from her emotionally-exhausted induced nap, she'd walked toward sunlight to find that: 1.)her sandals were missing and 2.) she was at least forty feet up over-looking an almost sheer cliff face. Then there had been mad rummaging in her purse, which was looking rather worse for the wear, only to come up with a battery dead cell phone.

That was when she'd sunk to her knees and proceeded to have a panic attack. 'Thank goodness that he found me.' Then she shifted uncomfortably - he'd been in her brain. 'He did do it to help me. And he did apologize. At least I didn't have to tell him about…'Cheyenne swallowed and focused on Xavier's last bit of advice determinedly. 'He said to relax. That makes sense since they disappeared while I was sleeping and my back does feel like it's got some kind of pressure built up.'

She dropped her purse, sat down on the ground and awkwardly stretched her hands around to feel her back. The upper-back of her sundress was ripped in the middle, but the outer edges and her bra were intact.

'They must come out right there.' She placed a finger experimentally on her exposed skin. 'Yep, that's where the pressure is. Maybe it's like a flexing a muscle and if I just relax, then tense…'

Whoosh!

"Whoa!" Cheyenne screeched, toppling forward only to be stabilized by her now outstretched wings. She looked over her shoulder hesitantly and let out a breath of awe. They were a deep emerald green and similar in structure to a bat's. They sloped gently up to a small peak tipped with a pointed outer protrusion of the main structural bone. The main bone curved lightly down from the peak to end in another bone spike at the end of the wing. Three smaller bones branched, visible as ridges under the green skin, off of the main bone to end in pointed protrusions along the bottom of the wing.

Experimentally, she moved them around a bit. Then she curiously flapped them backwards. "Oof!" And promptly careened face forwards into the dusty stone floor, moving her arms in front of her face. "Guess I'm stronger than I thought."

Raising herself up on her elbows, Cheyenne received another surprise. A curved spike of bone, similar to the points on her wings, extended from each elbow. Cautiously, she lifted her left elbow and pressed the pad of her right thumb against the point. 'That's handy…and dangerous.'

Pushing herself into a sitting position again, she discovered that she had spikes similar to the ones on her elbows, but shorter, on her heels. "Well, that explains how I lost my sandals." She remarked, with a briefly startled laugh.

Sighing, Cheyenne shifted into a more comfortable position, carefully arranging her legs so she wouldn't accidentally stick herself. She laid her head against the rock wall and smiled as her wings folded over her shoulders like a cape. 'It's just like touching my arm.' She mused as she ran her fingers down the edge of her left wing. It felt a lot like normal skin - only a bit more leathery and a tad bit rougher. 'They're really like an extra set of arms. It's weird…but cool at the same time.'

Contemplatively, her eyes were drawn to the blue of the afternoon sky outside of her little nook. 'I wonder what it's like to fly. It must be sort of like walking since my body was able to do it on auto-pilot, like sleep-walking.'

Cheyenne looked from the sky to the vaguely human-shaped imprint in the dirt-covered stone floor. 'Perhaps I should wait until that person who can fly that Xavier mentioned gets here. Just in case.'

Further thoughts on the practicality of waiting were interrupted by a growling rumble from her midsection. Cheyenne reached for her neglected purse, hoping that she might have something edible stashed in there. She hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast that morning.

The plan had been to spend the day in Austin with Jack then leave after dinner.

'Guess I'm not the only one who had what they really are pop out in plain view today.' Unbidden, the image of Jack's blue eyes full of guilt as he hovered over another girl came to her mind. 'He told me he agreed with me. No denying where he and that girl were headed. He told me he was fine with waiting…I thought we would end up getting married.' The sting of betrayal left her feeling hollow and empty. 'Six years. Almost seven.' She sighed as she pulled a pack of gum out of her purse - it was better than nothing. Then a thought struck her that made her pause with a stick of gum midway out of the pack and turned a bitter spark into full out anger.

'Just how long has he been cheating on me? And was she the only girl he's cheated on me with? And what did he tell her?' Cheyenne savagely pulled out the stick of gum, tore off the wrapper and popped it in her mouth. 'The lying, two-timing, jerk!' She fumed, chewing violently. 'I was a loyal and loving girlfriend for six years. SIX YEARS. I had dinner with his grandparents. I wore cherry lip gloss. I HATE CHERRY FLAVORED ANYTHING! He doesn't like black and white movies. He was late to my college graduation when the rest of his family were on time. That time we were going to see that Egyptian exhibit we ended up at the movies, because that's what he wanted to do. It's never been about 'us'. It's always been all about him.' In anger, Cheyenne rummaged through her purse once again and, tube of cherry lip gloss held triumphantly in hand, rose.

She stalked to the opening and hurled the tube downwards with all her might. "You're a self-absorbed, lying piece of trash Jackson Albert Malloy!" The thick glass tube shattered satisfyingly as the force of her throw, gravity and the rocky ground conspired against it. She crossed her arms. "And I'm better off without you."

A half hour later saw Cheyenne leaning against the rock wall, sipping from her bottle of water and contemplating how being a mutant would affect her life. She was in the middle of indulging herself, and veering from more serious thoughts, with a fantasy of flying her ex-boyfriend to the top of the tallest building in the world - all while he pleaded and cried like a baby - when the whirring of an engine broke her from her thoughts.

Cautiously she edged forward on her knees and peered outside. And blinked. There was a huge black spot forming out of thing air and the roaring of engine noise growing louder, prompting her to cover her sensitive ears, as a shape formed. "Oh. My. That's…wow."

It was a jet. A very fancy, sleek looking jet that was now landing in front of her cave. Cheyenne watched in fascination as a ramp lowered from the belly of the jet. The ramp hit the ground with a dull thud and then wheeling down it in a wheelchair came a familiar bald figure accompanied by two women - one with snowy white hair. Since they seemed to be looking up at her anyway, and recognizing Charles Xavier from the image he'd presented of himself, she stood.

"Mr. Xavier?" She shouted down to them.

The older gentleman raised his hand in reply and nodded to his white-haired companion and addressed her. Cheyenne could hear the murmur of his voice, and, pricking up her ears, was able to make out the last two words - "…please, Storm."

A gust of wind buoyed the woman upwards and she floated in a graceful arc to stand level with Cheyenne on thin air. "Miss Jackson?" The woman had chocolate skin that made a striking contrast to her snowy mane of white hair, which clearly wasn't an indication of her age, as the tendrils blew gently around her face.

"Cheyenne." The younger woman replied, impressed by the queenly woman before her who seemed to be controlling the wind itself.

"Hello, Cheyenne." The dark-skinned woman smiled kindly. "My name is Ororo Munroe, or Storm, if you prefer."

'Storm - it suits her. She smells just like the outdoors after a rainstorm.'

"Do you think you can fly down on your own?" Storm continued.

Cheyenne nodded hesitantly.

"Don't worry, I will be right here. Trust your instincts and you will be fine."

Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne looked over the edge. Biting her lip, she began to flap her wings as Storm moved aside. Then she jumped.

The wind skimmed along her wings and body as she propelled herself downwards. It felt…incredible, perfect. Cheyenne let out a whoop of pure joy and twisted around three hundred and sixty degrees in midair. She slowed down the beating of her wings as she descended to the edge of the jet's ramp, only to stop beating her wings too soon and tumble down to the ground in a heap. But the grin remained on her face.

"That. Was. AWESOME! I FLEW!"

"Yes, you did." Storm agreed with a chuckle, landing behind her with considerably more grace.

"Land, however, yah didn't." The other woman teased in a distinctive southern accent that immediately set Cheyenne at ease, as she offered the fallen girl a gloved hand.

Gratefully, Cheyenne accepted the assistance and scrambled to her feet. The girl was about her age with wavy auburn hair sporting two white streaks that framed her face and bright green eyes.

"Ah'm Rogue. It's nice to meet you."

"Thanks, I'm Cheyenne."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Cheyenne." Charles Xavier said, a smile gracing his kind face.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Xavier." She replied, walking over to gratefully shake his hand. "Thank you so much for coming to get me! I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't found me."

"Don't let it trouble you, my dear." He patted her hand with his free one before releasing it. "We called your father and he was very relieved to hear you were safe, though doubtless he's anxious to see you."

Cheyenne's stomach picked this moment to loudly voice its emptiness. Blushing, she clutched her stomach as if holding it could silence it.

"You poor thing." Storm sympathized. "You have every reason to be hungry, up in that cave for hours."

"I'm so sorry, my dear. Of course you must be hungry. Rogue was so kind as to pack some food before we left, so you won't have to starve all the way home." Xavier gestured at the jet and began wheeling up the ramp.

"Come on, hun, let's get some food in your belly."

Cheyenne followed Rogue aboard and over to the front row of seats, while Xavier parked his wheelchair facing the seats and Storm walked past them to settle into the pilot's seat, flicking a button to raise the ramp. The jet was small, relatively speaking, but impressive with six rows of seats - two on each side of the aisle. Rogue plopped down in the window seat and flicked open the console between the seats to reveal a small stash of water-bottles and sandwiches. "Would you like PB & J or ham and cheese? Sorry there's not more variety, but Ah only had time for a quick kitchen raid."

"Ham and cheese, please. Don't worry about it, as long as it's food I'm happy."

Rogue picked out a sandwich and looked up to see Cheyenne, still standing, biting her lip and sucking in her stomach. Finally with a soft 'fwish' her wings settled back into her back and the talons on her elbows and heels retracted.

Pleased with herself, Cheyenne sat down and relaxed in the seat, happily taking the sandwich. Only to have her wings and spikes stubbornly pop out again.

"Whoa!" Rogue exclaimed, ducking to avoid being skewered by the spike on the end of her wing.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Cheyenne apologized, red-faced as she tucked her wings around her. "I…err…thought once I got them in then they'd stay that way."

"Control is something that takes time and practice." Xavier said comfortingly. "Gifts can be tricky and frustrating, particularly right after they manifest."

"It's alright, Cheyenne - it happens. Ah'm still workin' on getting control of mah powers myself." Seeing the guilty expression lingering on the other girl's face, Rogue continued. "Ah have poison skin. If Ah touch someone else Ah read their minds and if they're a mutant Ah get their powers for a bit, but if Ah hold on too long Ah can hurt 'em. If you'd hit me then Ah could've just touched you and borrowed however your body deals with havin' sharp objects come out of it."

In the cockpit, Storm turned back to the console - having turned around at Rogue's shriek - and smiled at the controls. Although Rogue had always accepted the limitations of her mutation, the constant attentions of the mansion's resident Cajun had certainly improved her attitude toward her powers and the positive change in mood seemed to be putting her on the right track towards getting control. The explanation just given had lacked all the bitterness, resignation and weary sadness that Storm had come to expect when Rogue talked about her mutation. Storm propelled the jet into take-off.

"So," Cheyenne asked after a few bites of sandwich and minutes of silence as the jet zoomed into the air, "would it be safe to assume from the jet that you rescue people frequently?"

"Among other things." Rogue grinned. "Yah should see the big jet."

"Big jet? Y'all have TWO jets?" Cheyenne queried, eyes wide.

In the cockpit, Storm chuckled.

"I think, my dear," Charles Xavier said with an amused smile, "that an explanation is in order."


	2. Chapter 2

I'm considering changing the classification on this to movie-verse, if you're reading this then I'd love your input on the subject! Comments/criticism are welcome but please keep all criticism constructive!

Disclaimer: The X-Men are the property of Marvel which is the property of DC. I only own Cheyenne.

Cheyenne woke to the aroma of bacon. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, snuggling into the covers of her bed. The smell of eggs, sprinkled with seasoning, greeted her nose as she sniffed deeply and as she listened closely she could just make out the faint scraping of spatula against skillet combined with her father's slightly off-key humming. Yawning, Cheyenne sat up in bed and stretched.

Fwish!

"I definitely made the right decision." Cheyenne remarked wryly, tucking her wings around her as she got out of bed. It was common sense really. She couldn't attend graduate school or work the cash register at the garage her father owned with wings coming out her back. 'Thankfully, I hadn't paid my tuition yet.' Cheyenne mused, adding 'call the registrar's office' to her to-do list for the day. Her last day at home.

Cheyenne sighed, threw back the covers and slid out of bed. Relieved, she noted that since her knees had been bent she had avoided piercing her mattress. 'I need to call Angela too.' Hopefully her friends would take the news as well as her father had.

There hadn't been any time for Henry Jackson to doubt that his daughter was a mutant. She had managed to keep her wings retracted for the walk from the car Storm had rented down the sidewalk to her front door but no sooner had she gotten through it than her wings had stubbornly popped free again.

'Guess this is your way of protesting being stuck in my back so long, huh guys?' The girl addressed her wings in the hall mirror, still getting used to seeing herself with her own flying equipment. 'And personal cutlery.' She added, glancing at her elbows. Although she did have the ability to retract her wings, she couldn't seem to manage keeping them in for more than about thirty seconds; the exception to this being that her wings seemed to retract of their own accord when she was asleep.

All through the lengthy discussion of her powers and position as a mutant with Professor Xavier, Storm and Rogue and later during dinner - her father had insisted on her rescuers staying for dinner - Henry Jackson kept glancing at his daughter's wings with surprised, somewhat stunned, fascination. He had taken the discovery that his only remaining child was a mutant remarkably well and, to Cheyenne's relief, had approved of her acceptance of Professor Xavier's proposal.

It was much later, after the delegation from New York had left for a motel, when her dad was helping her measure how much of the back of one of the baggy old t-shirts she used as a night-shirt she'd have to cut out to fit her wings that she had commented on how well he was taking it.

"I'm not going to deny that it was a shock but you're my little girl, Cheyenne." He said simply. "I love you and I'll always love you, no matter what."

At this point Cheyenne, who thought that she had no tears left, found that she did and buried herself in her father's arms.

"Besides," her father continued as he gently rubbed between her wings, "I think your wings are pretty cool."

Cheyenne pulled back in his embrace to give him a teary-eyed smile. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, sweet-pea." He kissed his daughter's forehead. "Now, what you need is a shower and a good night's rest."

Showering had proven to be an interesting experience, to say the least, with two extra appendages on her back, but the warm water had felt divine. Then sliding between the cool bed sheets and sinking into a deep and dreamless sleep had been pure and utter bliss after the strain of the day.

A smile found its way to Cheyenne's face at the sight of her father dipping up breakfast, an answering smile forming on his face as he caught sight of her.

"Good morning, sweetheart!"

Cheyenne dropped a kiss on her father's cheek prior to sitting down. "Morning, Daddy." Henry Jackson placed a plate in front of his daughter next to an already full glass of milk. "Ooo, this looks delicious!" Cheyenne exclaimed as her father took his seat across from her, sniffing appreciatively.

"Thank you." There was a pause in the conversation as they joined hands and Henry Jackson said grace, which included a word of thanks for the safety of his daughter.

"Amen." They murmured in unison and released hands.

"Sleep well?" Henry Jackson inquired.

"Like a log." Cheyenne replied, loading her fork up with eggs. "Wings must've gone in while I was asleep but they popped out the second I stretched."

"Makes sense, it probably has something to do with your muscles back there." He mused, chewing on a piece of bacon. "Anyway, I called the shop. Rick's got it covered for the day so I'll be able to stay home and help you pack. And he said to tell you to enjoy New York and that if you want he'll happily work Jack over with a tire tool." The agreed upon answer if anyone would ask was that Cheyenne had taken a job offer in New York, deciding to postpone graduate school, after the debacle with Jack.

The mental image of the stocky mechanic leaping through the air like a ninja to bash her ex-boyfriend over the head brought a grin to her face. "Tempting, but he's not worth the trouble."

"Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble. If that boy sets one foot on my property then I fully intend to carry out my rights as a father. Then Rick can whack him with a tire tool."

"If he's stupid enough to come around you, then he deserves it." She drained the last of her milk. "Actually, he deserves it anyway but I don't want to have to bail you out of jail."

"If the judge had daughters, I probably wouldn't get put in jail." Mr. Jackson replied, rising and carrying his empty plate to the sink as his daughter finished off the last of her bacon. "Well, I'm going to go buy some boxes. Think about three should do it?"

Cheyenne considered. "Better get four, just in case."

"Alright then." He grabbed his keys from the edge of the counter.

"I'll call the university and Angela while you're gone."

"Sounds good." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, correctly reading the expression on her face. "If they're really your friends honey, then it won't matter." He added, squeezing her shoulder. "And if it does then they aren't friends worth having."

"You're right." She sighed.

"Be back in a bit."

"Okay, bye." Cheyenne responded, rising to lock the door behind her father.

It took all of twenty minutes for her to un-enroll herself from graduate school. 'Four years of undergrad to get in to grad school.' The young mutant thought as she hung up the phone. 'And less than half an hour to get out. Now I just have to call Angela.' She looked at the phone. 'It's the right thing to do. If I don't then I'll be no better than Jack - in a relationship under false colors.' Her hands curved around the phone. "If they're really my friends then it won't matter." On a surge of determination, she picked up the phone and dialed from memory.

Ring. Ring. "CHEYENNE! I was worried sick! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ange." Cheyenne replied. 'I just have these dragon-esque wings sticking out my back now and I'm worried that the few friends I have won't want to associate with me anymore.'

"I can't believe Jack. Oh, Cheyenne, I am so sorry!"

"It's okay Angela." She swallowed down the brief twinge of hurt and betrayal, reminding herself that he himself had proven that he wasn't worth crying over. "I was upset at first, but now…"

"You're angry?" Angela supplied.

"Yes, but at the same time I don't care."

"You shouldn't. He's not worth it." Her friend agreed, echoing her thoughts. "He lied - to all of us. Allen's so mad at him that he's moving in with some other law students."

"Allen's moving out?"

"Dan's up there helping him move out as we speak."

"You didn't go up to help?"

"No, I planned to spend the day with you. I was gonna call you around lunch-time; I figured you'd want to sleep in."

"Ange, finding about Jack wasn't the only thing that happened yesterday." She threw it out there, encouraged by this display of consideration.

"Happened? What happened?"

She told her - everything. Well, almost everything. She left out how exactly Professor Xavier found her. It wasn't as if he'd told her not to. In fact, last night he had encouraged her to be open with her friends, but something about comparing mental telepathy to a long distance phone call seemed like a little too much when telling your best friend that you're a mutant.

"Angela?" She queried into the silence.

"Oh, Cheyenne!" She sniffled, evidently fighting off tears. "You went through all that…and after Jack…and …and you're leaving! Today! I'm coming over and help you pack." She finished determinedly.

"You don't mind that I'm a mutant?"

"Why should I? It's not like you're really different now. I mean, you're the same person. Besides, my Uncle Tommy's a mutant."

"The one who owns the tattoo parlor in L.A?" Cheyenne looked up as she heard the door open and smiled, seeing her father with an armful of cardboard.

"That's the one. He has a tail; Abuela fainted when it grew in." Angela confirmed cheerfully. "So I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah, definitely!" The other girl confirmed, amused. 'Trust Angela to casually say her uncle has a tail and her grandmother passed out when it sprouted like she's just told me his hair is black.'

"Great! And Cheyenne?"

"Yes?"

"I told you that you were meant to be a teacher! See, it's fate!"

"Hippie." Cheyenne teased fondly, feeling undeniably happy. "See you!"

"Bye!"

"Go well?" Her father inquired as he folded a cardboard box into shape.

"Yep, she's coming over to help me pack." Cheyenne replied cheerfully, picking up a piece of cardboard. "And apparently her uncle has a tail."

"I'm glad to hear it, sweetie. That she's coming over that is." He placed the finished box on the floor and grabbed another unformed one. "I'm not sure how I feel about her uncle's tail. Did you tell Allen and Dan too?"

"No, not yet. They're moving Allen out of the apartment so I figured I'd just text them and ask them to call me when they get a minute." She finished assembling the box and sat it on the floor. "Should I tape the bottom of these?"

Her father nodded. "That'd be a good idea."

Cheyenne rose and rummaged in a nearby drawer for packing tape, fishing it out and picking up one of the boxes from the floor.

"So Allen's moving out?"

"Yes." She lined up the roll of tape and pulled a line of it across the bottom of the box. "With some other law students. I hadn't really thought of it until I talked to Angela, but Jack really lied to all of us."

"Probably lied to the other girl too." Henry Jackson commented, picking up the last box and pushing it into shape. "If I was Allen, I wouldn't want to live with the scumbag either - especially if it was my brother." They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, the younger of the two occasionally adjusting her wings and experimenting with how she could control them.

Diiiing-dong!

"I'd better get it." Mr. Jackson remarked.

There were a few moments of silence as Cheyenne continued to tape the bottom of the boxes. Hearing footsteps she looked up to see Angela walking with her father.

"Hi Ange." Cheyenne smiled uncertainly as her friend looked at her with wide eyes.

"Hi…" Angela breathed. Then a wide smile lit up her face and she rushed forward, nearly knocking her friend backwards with the force of her hug. "They're pretty!" She remarked as she pulled back.

"Thanks." Cheyenne laughed as her friend hovered a hand over her left wing with a 'Mommy-may-I' expression on her face. "Go for it."

"Yay!" Angela ran her hand along the outer edge of Cheyenne's wing. "It's a bit like leather, but silky at the same time." She marveled. "Dragon wings!"

"And talons…would you call them talons?" Cheyenne gestured to her elbows and heels.

"That's going to make wearing shoes tough."

"I lost my sandals yesterday."

"You'll just have to stick to slides for a while, sweetie." Her father rubbed his chin contemplatively. "And speaking of clothes, you should probably cut holes in some of your shirts."

"If not all." Cheyenne agreed. "Care to put your superior kindergarten teacher cutting skills to use, Angela?"

"You know it! I can't let my skills get rusty over the summer."

"Good," Cheyenne replied, glancing at the clock, "because they're coming to get me at two and I would prefer to not be in my pajamas when they get here."

"Alright then, how about you two get to work on cutting and packing clothes while I start on the computer and books?"

"And that's the last one." Angela sighed as the three people deposited the cardboard box in front of Cheyenne's old blue Explorer.

"Just in time too." Mr. Jackson said as a car honked from the other side of the garage door, walking over to hit the door opener.

The door raised, giving way to a black SUV which pulled in the spot normally occupied by Mr. Jackson's truck, currently parked by the curb.

"Afternoon." Henry Jackson greeted as the front passenger window rolled down to reveal Charles Xavier and Storm in the driver's seat.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson."

"Hello." Storm nodded and smiled.

"Afternoon." Rogue returned as she opened the back door of the sleek vehicle and climbed out.

"Hello again." Cheyenne acknowledged. "Angela, I'd like you to meet Professor Xavier, Miss Munroe and Rogue. This is my friend Angela Rodriguez."

"It's nice to meet y'all." Angela shook hands with all three. "Hopefully you won't change your mind about this one after lifting her luggage. Cheyenne has a serious book problem."

"Book problem?" Rogue inquired as she opened the back gate of the SUV.

"I don't have a problem." Cheyenne protested. Her father chuckled warmly and wrapped an arm around her.

Angela snorted. "Sweetie, you have more books than you do clothes."

"A love of books is a very admirable thing." Storm remarked.

"Indeed." Professor Xavier agreed. "It will be nice to have another fellow bibliophile around."

"Well, you're certainly getting one in Cheyenne."

"Oh, I agree that loving books is a good thing. But after you break your back on one of her boxes," she thumbed in the direction of the four boxes and two suitcases that comprised her friend's luggage, "then you may agree that she has a problem." Angela joked.

"Fine." Cheyenne rebutted good-naturedly. "I'll remember this when your boyfriend asks for birthday present ideas for you."

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Fortunately, no one need break their back Miss Rodriguez."

Rogue laughed at the expressions on their faces as the boxes and suitcases were telekinetically lifted into the back of the car.

"Wow. That would've been handy earlier."

"You can say that again." Her father concurred.

Angela was speechless. "That…wow. Just…" Then she whacked Cheyenne lightly on the shoulder. "Why'd we drag those all the way to the garage if he could do that?" She wiggled her fingers and hands in the air to symbolize flotation.

"Because it didn't occur to me that he could do that." Cheyenne said plaintively, wiggling hands and fingers back at her.

"We would have carried them out anyway." Mr. Jackson added. "You should never rely on other people for what you can do yourself."

"That is very sound advice." Storm approved.

"Thank you."

"Only fair after all, Ange." Cheyenne remarked as Rogue shut the back gate and came around to shake Angela and Mr. Jackson's hands before climbing back into the car. "Aren't teachers supposed to be big on fairness?"

"That's why you're going to be one." Angela stuck her tongue out at her before wrapping her up in a hug, eyes gone misty. "You will check your e-mails and keep your cell charged." She ordered, sniffling as she pulled back.

"I will." Cheyenne promised, sniffling as it sank in. 'I'm leaving. Right now. I won't be able to get dragged along on Angela's shopping trips or watch movies with Daddy. I won't be working at the shop anymore. I'm leaving.'

Henry Jackson said nothing, but opened his arms for his daughter and just held her. "I love you, baby." He kissed the top of her head and released her after several moments. "You'll call me when you get settled in?"

"I'll call you tonight." Reluctantly Cheyenne climbed into the car, shutting the backseat door left open by Rogue behind her. It was one thing to make the decision to leave home, another to know that it was the right decision to make, but it was something entirely different to actually leave the only home you've ever known behind you.

"It was nice meeting both of you."

Angela nodded. "Nice to meet you."

"Same to you." Mr. Jackson replied, hitting the garage door. "Thank you."

"It was our pleasure." Professor Xavier responded, rolling up the window as Storm put the car in reverse. He raised his hand in farewell and from the backseat Cheyenne leaned forward to wave, wiping at her eyes.

She kept waving until the figures standing in the Jackson garage were no longer visible and all she could see were her father's truck and Angela's car parked in front of the house through the back windshield of the rented car, until Storm turned off the street she'd spent most of her life on.

"Ah'm sorry, hun." Rogue comforted, handing her a tissue as she sunk back into her seat.

"Thanks." Cheyenne said, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. "I promise I'm not normally this emotional." She smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "That's normally Angela's thing."

"You two have been friends for a long time?"

"Since my freshman year of high school and her sophomore. She'd just moved to Brontsam that year from Dallas and ended up in the same history class as me because her old school had the required history classes in a different order. We ended up sitting next to each other and Angela ended up being lousy at remembering dates so we became study buddies and then friends." Cheyenne smiled. She hadn't been a crazed, ostracized loner through her school years; she had, in fact, been invited to birthday parties and such, but she had never had a real friend until Angela - just friendly acquaintances that amounted to no more than casual conversation when she met them and resulted in her spending the lunch period with a book.

"You have always liked history then?" Storm asked from the front seat.

"Always. I used to hold archaeological digs in my sandbox and excavate the tombs of mummified barbies."

Rogue laughed. "Yah mummified them, buried them, then dug them up?"

"And then the entire archaeological community would be wowed by my finds!"

"Ah have to ask. What did yah wrap 'em in?"

"Toilet paper." Cheyenne admitted. "And one summer an Ace bandage wrap, which, incidentally never saw medical action."

"I would certainly hope not." Professor Xavier chuckled, envisioning just what said bandage wrap would look like after being repeatedly buried and dug up from the sand for several months.

"See yah in the mornin', Cheyenne."

" 'Kay, night Rogue, night Remy. Thanks for showing me around."

"Twas nothin'." Rogue grinned.

"G'night Puff." Gambit's red on black eyes twinkled mischievously as Cheyenne sighed, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless as she shut her door.

"Now I t'ink I had better escort yo' to your room, chere." Cheyenne heard through the wood of the door.

"Yes, because Ah might get mugged walking the ten feet to mah room."

"Mos' crime infested hallway I've ever seen." Cheyenne heard Remy agree faintly as she walked away from the door.

Chuckling at the interchange between her fellow southerners, Cheyenne took a seat at the edge of her new bed and reached for her purse, which she had left splayed in the center of the mattress. It was high time she called her father; she'd texted him when the plane landed to tell him that they had arrived safely and that she would call him later.

Glancing at the bedside clock, Cheyenne paused with her hand in her purse. 'I forgot about the time change.' Squinting her eyes in thought, she worked out the time in Texas by subtracting an hour as her fingers curled around her cell phone and pulled it out of her purse. Figuring that it was only nine o'clock in Brontsam and her father would definitely still be awake, she dialed the number she had memorized as a kindergartener.

It barely made it through the first ring when her father answered. "Cheyenne?"

"Hi Daddy." Cheyenne answered, feeling a bit guilty. "Sorry, I should've called sooner."

"It's okay, baby. I figured you were getting all settled in."

"Yeah, I met the other teachers and students who stay here year round." The first person she had met had been Remy LeBeau, when the Professor, Storm and Rogue had been giving her a tour up from the hanger - where the sight of the Blackbird, what Rogue had referred to as the "big jet", made her eyes widen to no doubt ridiculous proportions.

Storm had just pointed out the Danger Room and was, with Professor Xavier's aid, explaining how the training facility operated when the metal doors had slid back to reveal a tall lithe man with shaggy brown hair wearing what appeared to be a black leather suit accentuated by metal tipped boots and a trench coat. What caught Cheyenne's attention most, however, was the man's eyes; red irises on black sclera.

"Rogue!" The man had exclaimed, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling the green-eyed girl into him in a half-hug.

Rogue had tensed at the initial contact, but relaxed to grin up at the red-eyed man, bemused. "Miss me did yah, sugah?"

"Oui." The man acknowledged, grinning back. "Storm, Professeur." He nodded to each and then his eyes landed on the short woman with dark brown hair, blue-green eyes and emerald wings. "You mus' be the newest addition to our merry band. I'm Remy LeBeau, o' Gambit if yo' prefer."

"Cheyenne Jackson. Nice to meet you." She had stretched out her hand to shake his and to her surprise he not only shook it, but raised it briefly to his lips.

"Quit spreadin' germs, Gumbo." Her first thoughts on seeing the mutant known as Wolverine, who introduced himself as Logan, were: 'wow, those sideburns are impressive' and 'I bet he could snap me like a twig'.

"Well, I met all of the teachers except for two." Cheyenne continued, snapping back to the present. "They're on their honeymoon. Rogue and some other girls helped me unpack." Gambit had assisted as well, by unpacking and hooking up her electronic devices in addition to making a good dent on her books - which completely filled all of the provided shelving. It was also during the unpacking of her belongings that she met two of the mansion's college age students - Tabby and Jubilee, two friendly, outgoing girls who had been perfectly willing to pitch in and help. This was also when Remy had decided to start calling her Puff, despite the fact that she wasn't a magic dragon who lived by the sea.

"I got taken on a tour and I'm positive that at some point tomorrow I'm going to get lost and wind up in a closet." It was during the tour that she'd met the rest of the mansion residents - the majority of them had been in the recreation room. The only exceptions had been a bubbly girl named Kitty, who reminded her somewhat of Angela, who had been hard at work in the computer lab and her boyfriend Piotr who had been sitting next to her sketching, and the blue-furred Hank McCoy who had been in the library.

Oh, the library. Cheyenne could have run up and down the aisles skipping and singing the Hallelujah Chorus in delight. Xavier hadn't been kidding when he'd said he was a bibliophile.

"Big place, huh?"

"Yes! They have a library!"

"Oh dear." Her father chuckled. "You're never going to want to come home now, are you?"

Cheyenne sighed. "I'd rather have you here than the library, Daddy."

"I miss you too baby, but I always knew you were going to have to leave the nest eventually. It still doesn't change how quiet it is around here, but I'll adapt. And you'll adapt. Even before you mentioned the library I could tell how excited you were to be there. You like everyone?"

"Yeah, everyone here has been really nice." Dinner had been pleasant with a variety of conversation - ranging from the debate of what club some of the college age kids were going to (Jubilee and Tabby were the partying sort it seemed), science, psychology, movies, to how far Kitty had gotten in deciphering some files on the Friends of Humanity. Granted, the following discussion on the Friends of Humanity and why the X-Men were monitoring them wasn't really all that pleasant - talking about a group that wanted you dead rarely is. The conversation before and after had been nice though. Just as the James Bond movie she watched after dinner with Logan, Rogue, Remy and Kurt - who was fuzzy, blue, had a tail and a German accent and Cheyenne had deemed a big sweetheart - had been enjoyable. Plus when they had asked about her family and where she was from, no one had asked the question she always dreaded - about her mother. Usually it was something along the lines of : 'You live with your father, so are your parents divorced then?'. She didn't know if they refrained from asking because Professor Xavier had told them not to - she wasn't sure how much he'd learned while in her head- or because they had heard enough sad tales of the past to know the wisdom of only asking about information the teller volunteered, but she was grateful. "Yes." Cheyenne repeated. "I think I'll like it here."

"Good and you know if you end up not liking it then I'll come and get you."

Cheyenne smiled, reminded of her first date with Jack when he'd told her something similar - "If he gets out of line or does anything to make you uncomfortable then call me and I'll come and get you." That struck something else in her mind. 'Jack…oh!'

"Oh, I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you!"

"Tell me what?"

"Allen and Dan called me on Allen's phone on the flight up."

"How'd they take it?"

"They were pretty shocked at first and I still don't think it's really sunk in for them but I think they took it pretty well. Definitely not as well as Angela. It made them even angrier at Jack though, not that he doesn't deserve it."

"You can say that again."

"But Dad, get this : SHE was moving in as Allen was moving out."

"The girl Jack was cheating on you with? You have got to be kidding me."

"That's what I said. Apparently, she knows about me but doesn't care because Jack 'loves her'." Cheyenne held her phone between ear and shoulder, emphasizing her point with air quotes.

"If that isn't the height of idiocy, I don't know what is!"

"And guess what else?"

"There's more? Do I want to know or is this going to make my blood pressure rise more?"

"Oh, this you want to know." Cheyenne assured him, unable to repress the gleeful smirk of vengeance that stole across her face. "Dan punched Jack!"

"Dan? Good for him!"

"Dan had to keep Allen from hitting him several times, but Allen never thought to restrain Dan."

"I'm glad; it serves the two-timin' scum right!"

"So am I! And so are Dan and Allen for that matter. I've never even seen Dan angry before." Dan had the personality of a big puppy. "It's nice to have friends." She concluded, nourishing a hope that her ex-boyfriend would have a black eye.

"You sure made some good ones, honey. The only rotten apple was that scumbag." He paused thoughtfully. "I'm going to have to threaten the next one much more thoroughly."

"Well, I intend to be much more selective with the next one so hopefully that'll help."

"Good to hear, but I'm going to threaten him anyway."

Cheyenne chuckled. "Well, I'd better let you go Daddy. I start training tomorrow."

"Alright, baby. I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy. Night."

"Night baby."

Cheyenne turned her cell phone off after the soft click and stood, stretching her arms and wings. 'Now to learn the intricacies of my new shower.'


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The X-Men are the property of Marvel, which is the property of Disney. I don't own Disney…if I did then I'd probably have found my way to Disney World by now.

Nervously Cheyenne shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable in her pair of low top sneakers with the backs pared down to accommodate the spikes emerging from her heels, as she stood in the middle of the large room. She was clad in a matching pair of grey sweatshirt and pants, both bearing the insignia of Xavier's School for the Gifted - an 'X' in a circle. Rogue had provided the school sweat suit from a storage bin outside of the locker rooms located near the Danger Room.

Logan had helpfully sliced off the sleeves and cut out a hole in the back of the top, showing Cheyenne the sharp metal reasons why he was called Wolverine. Her shoes had been similarly 'adjusted' by honed adamantium.

"Alright kid, here's how it's gonna work." Logan's gruff voice came over the speakers from the control room. "There are eight levels - eight bein' the hardest. We're gonna start you on level one. I want you to take down your enemies in whatever way feels natural; we'll see what you've got. As you start to get the hang of it, I'm gonna crank up the level."

"Okay." Cheyenne swallowed, throat dry. 'Take down? The only thing I've ever taken down are notes. And cockroaches with flyswatters, or the available shoe.' She thought, panicking.

"Remember, hun, none of this is real but it will feel real. If you get hit, it'll hurt." Rogue cautioned, leaning forward from her seat next to Logan in the control room to speak into the intercom. "Don't worry though," she hastened to add, catching the expression on Cheyenne's now very pale face, "the sim will shut down automatically if you get overwhelmed or we can shut it off if need be."

Cheyenne managed a nod, feeling only marginally better at this disclaimer.

"Startin' it up." Logan stated, flicking a switch.

The room shifted into a large well-lit warehouse, impossibly larger than the room she had previously been standing in. 'Now this is cool.' Cheyenne thought, looking around her in awe. 'They could set this thing up to do historical re-enactments! Interactive ones! Oh, maybe when I start teaching they'll let me -' Her temporary excitement was broken by a clattering noise.

"Eeeek!" She shrieked in surprise as a metal spider about one and a half feet long and a foot high clambered out of a box in front of her.

The spider's legs clicked in a swift staccato on the floor as it crawled determinedly towards her. Acting on instinct, she raised her right foot and swiftly brought her heel down in the middle of the spider's back. There was a crunching noise as the spider was impaled by the spike of bone protruding from her foot.

"Hah." She remarked in satisfaction, pulling her talon free and turning towards the sound of more clattering.

Cheyenne had just dispatched her seventh spider when there was a knock on the control room door.

"Hey guys!" Kitty greeted cheerfully. "How's she doing?"

"Hey Kitty." Rogue replied. "She's on level one."

"Not anymore." Logan upped the difficulty setting as Cheyenne impaled her eighth mechanical spider.

Cheyenne turned towards the tell-tale skittering noise to find not one, but two metal spiders coming at her, faster than before. "Eeep!" She jumped, impaling one with either foot. "Oh dagnabit." She turned her head to see two more spiders coming up behind her as she struggled to free her feet. After a few more vain wiggles she finally lifted herself airborne with a flap of her wings to let gravity help her as she shook her feet and the spiders slid off of her talons.

Kitty giggled. "It looks like she's playing hopscotch." She remarked, watching Cheyenne repeat her maneuver of pounce and fly.

"Hey, you're right." Rogue agreed, giggling a bit.

"You finish workin' on that data Kitty?" Logan inquired, changing the subject as the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. 'It really does look like the kid's playin' hopscotch.' He resolved to let her take down five more waves before moving the difficulty to level three.

"Yeah, finally! The professor's looking at it with Hank and Storm now. We're probably going to have a meeting after lunch." She shivered a bit as Cheyenne pounced on another set of spiders. "Those guys are way messed up."

"They want to get rid of a whole section of society. Messed up doesn't even begin to cover it." Rogue said dryly.

Logan grunted in agreement, changing the difficulty to level three.

"Yuck, Ah hate those things!" Rogue grimaced as beetles flew from each corner of the room to join the spiders coming in pairs of twos and threes from multiple directions, more rapidly than before.

"Ewww! Me too! Especially when they start dive-bombing."

Cheyenne raised her elbows as a mechanical beetle flew at her face and she slashed at it, sighing with relief as it fell. 'Maybe this would be easier if I just stayed in the air.' She decided, catching sight of another beetle out of the corner of her eyes and hearing the determined skittering of more spiders headed for her. A rush of exhilaration filled her as her wings began beating and she rose into the air. The clicking of metallic wings alerted her to two beetles converging on her, while two spiders were moving in the opposite direction, towards the wall. 'Hmm…I wonder…' Quickly Cheyenne flew above the beetles and with all her strength flapped her wings downwards. The beetles careened towards the floor, smashing into the spiders and taking all four out of commission.

"Yahoo!" Cheyenne cheered, feeling a surge of adrenaline as she began flying about the room.

"Clever." Logan commented, pleased at his newest trainee.

"Yep." Rogue agreed, watching in amusement as the winged girl dived and flitted.

"And here I thought you could only have fun in the Danger Room if you were using it to play movies in 3D." Kitty watched as Cheyenne flew about, slicing with elbows and heels, and cheering whenever she managed to knock beetles into spiders, other beetles, the walls or the floor with a well-timed flap of her mighty wings.

"Or if you're Logan." Rogue teased her odd combination of father and older brother figure.

"True." Kitty giggled.

Logan merely smirked, neither confirming nor denying. "Let's crank up the fun then." He flicked the level up to four. "Gumbo." He greeted the quietly opening door, without turning around.

"Bonjour mes amis!" Gambit replied cheerfully, nonplussed. "For you, chere." He said, handing over a cardboard cup to Rogue.

"Ooooo, coffee!" Rogue accepted the cup and took a sip. The caffeinated beverage was liberally doctored with sugar and chocolate. Rogue sighed happily. "Just the way Ah like it. Thanks Remy!"

"Anytime, Rogue." Remy said, leaning over to wrap his arms around the back of Rogue's chair with his hands resting on her shoulders.

"Where's Piotr?" Kitty inquired.

"He was headed up to de computer lab, looking fo' yo'. You've got yo' own chocolate-y surprise waitin'."

"Oooo!" Kitty squealed happily, knowing just what her boyfriend would bring back for her. "Donuts! See you guys at lunch!"

"Dat femme loves her chocolate." Remy commented as Kitty Pryde bounded excitedly from the room.

"What insane person doesn't like chocolate?" Rogue paused in her contented sipping to reply.

"If dey're crazy den they might not know what dey're eating."

"Those poor, deprived crazy people." Rogue shot back smoothly, continuing to sip her chocolate-laced treat.

Gambit chuckled. "What level is she on?"

"Four." Wolverine replied, glancing from the sight of Cheyenne fighting off waves of beetles and spiders towards his assistant and the Cajun. "Watch it there, bub."

"Desole Logan, but the mos' belle femme I've ever seen gets shoulder massage privileges over yo'." Gambit responded, unperturbed as he continued to rub Rogue's shoulders.

Logan 'hmphed'.

"Don't worry, Logan." Rogue teased, leaning forward in her swivel chair to let Remy get a better angle on her shoulders. "You can defend mah shoulders' honor if necessary."

"Looks like Puff's starting to slow down."

"She's still hangin' in there though." Rogue raised her head a bit to look through the glass. "Should we call it?"

"Let's put her on five for a bit then we'll stop; she's proven she can handle four."

Cheyenne wiped a heavy line of sweat from her forehead with one hand, yelping in surprise as a spider dropped from the ceiling at her - luckily hitting her raised arm. Desperately she flapped her wings to knock back a swarm of beetles closing in on her. A loud buzzing noise filled her ears, over the crash of the beetles as she finally mustered the strength to beat her wings hard enough to drive them into the wall.

She could only let out a breathless scream as a huge metal wasp plunged towards her with its stinger glinting menacingly. Panting, she attempted to outmaneuver it. The wasp, however, was faster than the beetles and Cheyenne was tired. There was a quick prick in her abdomen and the warehouse faded from view, leaving her blinking at the blank walls of the Danger Room.

"Not bad for your first go-round kid. You made it to level five."

"Ready to hit the showers?" Rogue added over the intercom.

"Yes, please!" Cheyenne called. 'I feel like a humongous sweat ball.' She landed carefully, her exhausted body reminding her that she hadn't moved around that much since her mandatory high school gym class. 'And possibly not even then.' She thought, grimacing at the smell and very obvious stains under her mutilated sleeves.

"Good, cause I can almos' smell those pit stains from here, Puff." Rogue swatted Gambit's hand off the intercom button.

Cheyenne stuck her tongue out at the control room and wrapped her wings around her, hiding said stains from view.

"Better?" Rogue inquired, leaning against the wall outside of the locker room finishing off the last of her coffee.

"Much." Cheyenne finished pulling her damp hair back into an untidy bun. "Thanks for waiting for me."

Rogue dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "No problem." The sound of a straw sucking up air identified the Mississippi girl's treat as all gone. "Awww! Well, it was good while it lasted."

"Where'd Remy run off to?"

"The kitchen. He's gettin' started on lunch."

"He's rather particular about his food isn't he?" There was a roster distributing chores among staff and students alike; cooking was a task taken in turns by the staff. Today was Gambit's day in the kitchen.

Rogue snorted. "He's a kitchen diva. That's why he's almost officially on shoppin' duty. Ah wish Ah had him dressin' down Logan for buying the wrong seasoning salt on video."

It was Cheyenne's turn to snort. "Over seasoning salt? Now that I wish I could have seen."

"It was priceless." A smile tugged up the corners of Rogue's lips as she savored the memory of an adorably irate Remy haranguing a taken-aback Logan. "He is a good cook though."

"Breakfast was delicious." The shorter woman agreed, leaning against the wall.

"Would you like to go up to the rec room and sit on the nice comfy couch until lunch?" Rogue asked in amused sympathy, a veteran of Logan's Danger Room sessions watching a first-timer lean against the wall as if it was necessary to remain upright.

"I would love to. Just as soon as I gather the energy to walk."

"I recommend soaking in Epsom salts to prevent your muscles from being overly sore tomorrow." Hank McCoy advised. "I have some in the med lab if you'd like to pick them up after the meeting."

"That'd be great." Cheyenne gingerly walked to the sink. Her lower legs and upper arms were aching resentfully at being forced into physical activity. 'At least my wings aren't sore.'

"Luring the innocent down t' your lair, Hank?"

"You have a very strong dislike of medical facilities, don't you Remy?" Storm observed.

"Scared of needles Gumbo?" Logan interjected.

"I don' like to be poked and prodded." Gambit gallantly picked up Rogue's dishes in addition to his own, winking at the southern belle as he did so. "Unless, o' course, yo' want to give me my physical, chere."

"Not a chance, swamp rat." The reply came swiftly. "Although," she considered, "I could always knock you unconscious then let Hank give you a physical."

"And how would yo' get me down dere after you knocked me out?"

"I'd drag you down there." Logan deadpanned.

"Kurt could always port him down there." Bobby put in thoughtfully, from his seat near Jubilee and Tabby. All three had been worn down from their clubbing adventures of the previous night and none of them had made an appearance till well after breakfast.

"Before of after Rogue knocks him unconscious?" The blue German asked good-naturedly, loading the dish washer as Cheyenne helpfully rinsed the dishes and handed them to him.

"After." Jubilee put in decisively.

"Yeah." Tabby nodded. "Easier for Rogue to seduce him first."

"Seduce?" Rogue asked.

"So you can knock him out without him expecting it." Tabby explained.

"Yo' can seduce me without knocking me out if yo' want, cherie." Gambit put in helpfully, laughing as Rogue made a face at him.

Hank chuckled. "I think we had better quit discussing hypothetically turning Rogue into Mata Hari and adjourn to the meeting least Charles thinks something's amiss." Indeed, the Professor had already left for the conference room along with Kitty, who was setting up her presentation, and Piotr, who was assisting Kitty.

"Y'know," Tabby mused as they exited the room - Kurt opting to instead disappear in a puff of smoke, "I've heard of Mata Hari, but I have no clue who she was. Was she even a real person?"

"Very much so." Storm stated in her soft, dignified voice. "She was a femme-fatale shot for passing information to the Germans."

"Actually," Cheyenne corrected thoughtfully, "she was shot more or less on hearsay. There was no concrete evidence that she passed information to the Germans and several French officers testified at her trial that she had, in fact, attempted to give information on the Germans several times. It seems she faced the firing squad for…err…sleeping with the Germans."

"Which isn't all that unexpected." Hank added. "Working as an…uh…exotic performer, I suppose she couldn't really be picky about her clientele."

"She was an exotic performer? Cool!" Tabby exclaimed. "Why didn't we ever learn about her in history class?"

"Exotic performers are hardly school appropriate." Storm answered dryly, glad to be handing over the reins of history teacher so that she could focus on what she really enjoyed teaching - her ethics class and the younger children.

"It would have made the class more interesting though." Jubilee decided.

"History is plenty interesting without talking about exotic performers." Cheyenne defended her pet subject.

"Ah never thought when Ah woke up this morning that Ah would be involved in a debate on exotic performers." Rogue remarked, amused.

Gambit grinned. "Ain't life great, chere?"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. They are the property of Marvel, which is the property of Disney. I do, however, own Cheyenne.

"Ah-hah!" Kitty Pryde exclaimed, holding an unplugged cable up triumphantly. "Sorry about that, should be fine now." She apologized, putting the errant cable in its appropriate socket.

"Thank you, Kitty." The Professor acknowledged as Kitty took her seat next to Piotr at the conference table. He clicked a button on a small remote and an image jumped to the screen resting on the wall behind the head of the table. "What you see before you is the most troubling of what Kitty found amongst the stolen data."

Logan cursed under his breath.

"They are sanctioning the kidnapping of mutants." Storm clarified, appalled.

"It appears they are attempting to gather information on the various underground mutant populations via interrogation and torture in order to eradicate them."

"The typical crazy cultist agenda." Gambit commented, eying the manifesto presented on the viewing screen with disgust.

"You have already sent out varnings?"

Professor Xavier nodded at Nightcrawler. "As soon as Kitty discovered it."

"Then we break in, spring the captives and torch the place." Logan stated.

"Essentially." Hank agreed. "But we're not going to completely destroy the facilities."

Rogue nodded in comprehension. "Give the cops and firefighters something to discover."

"Turn public opinion against the Friends of Humanity and expose their illegal dealings to the law." Storm approved thoughtfully.

"That's the general idea." Professor Xavier concurred.

"Provided o' course, that the cops an firefighters haven't been bought by the F.o.H." Gambit put in.

"Or they aren't members." Bobby added.

"You said facilities." Logan said. "Exactly how many are we talking here?"

"Two." Kitty answered. "But I haven't figured out where exactly they are yet."

"How long do you think it will take you?" Storm inquired.

"Two weeks at least." Kitty estimated. Her boyfriend gave her hand a reassuring squeeze under the table; he would be spending two weeks sketching in the computer lab.

"We must hold ourselves in readiness in the meantime." Xavier cautioned.

Logan grunted in agreement. "I'll form two strike teams and get 'em workin' together in the Danger Room in the meantime."

"Two weeks, huh? Jus' enough time for Puff's uniform to get here, no?"

Cheyenne looked up from the viewing screen, startled from musings on eerie similarities between the Friends of Humanity manifesto and a translation of Nazi propaganda she'd once read.

"It will be safer if every available X-Man goes." Xavier assured her.

"And I'll have you ready." Logan stated. "Team assignments'll be up tomorrow."

"Does this mean no solo Danger Room sessions?" Jubilee asked hopefully.

Logan considered. "Team sessions only. We start tomorrow. I'll get to work on the roster. You're excused, Shadowcat."

"Ah wouldn't celebrate just yet, Jubes." Rogue sighed.

"I helped Logan revamp the team sims last week." Kitty admitted shamefacedly, feeling like a traitor but glad nonetheless that she had to work in the computer lab.

"Awwwww, man!" Jubilee pouted.

Logan grinned like a child who's just been told he's getting a new toy.

"Sadist." Tabby accused.

"He is going to be doing the sims vith us." Kurt pointed out fairly.

"So if anything, he's a masochist." Cheyenne contributed, her aching muscles mourning another trip into the Danger Room.

"OoooOooo! New sims!" Gambit exclaimed gleefully.

"That proves it. You're insane swamp rat."

"C'mon chere, new sims! Aren't yo' a lil excited?"

Rogue held up a gloved hand, lifting a finger about an inch off her thumb. "Very little."

"I think the new simulations will be a nice change." Hank McCoy put in.

"I vas thinking the same thing."

"Me too." Bobby admitted.

"Me as well." Piotr agreed.

Storm sighed. "All men are little boys still at heart it seems."

"All of us are children at heart, Ororo."

"You are looking forward to seeing the new simulations, aren't you Charles?" Storm queried wisely.

The wheelchair-bound man smiled somewhat guiltily. "I'm afraid I am."

"Ladies, I suggest we go stock up on Epsom salt."

"Amen to that." Cheyenne groaned, rising stiffly.

"Best to prepare in advance, Ah guess."

"I guess." Jubilee repeated sadly.

"Oh, poo!" Tabby grumbled, pulling herself out of her chair.

"I'll walk with you as far as the comp lab." Kitty offered sympathetically. "You'll come hang out with me while I work?"

"Of course." The artistic Russian replied, rising to wrap an arm around his girlfriend.

"Would you mind getting the salt down for us Hank?" Ororo Munroe paused at the door to ask, smiling back at her colleague.

"Yes! Yes of course." Hank replied quickly, almost knocking over his chair in his haste to rise and move to her side. "Shall we?" He said, gallantly gesturing the others out of the room.

"Anyone care to make a bet on when Fuzzy's gonna finally get up the nerve to ask 'Ro out?" Logan inquired, once the room had emptied leaving just himself, Kurt, Remy and the Professor.

"I never gamble on affairs of the heart." The Professor chuckled and made his exit, bidding them farewell until dinner.

"I could be tempted." Gambit mused. "What do yo' think?"

Logan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Three months."

"Hmmm…I'll say quatre months."

"What'll we bet?"

"What say the loser buys winner drinks?"

"Deal." The two men shook hands. "You want in on this Elf?"

Nightcrawler chuckled. "Nein, I just vanted to hear the predictions. As I told Jubilee, I am not one for betting."

"What was the Firecracker taking bets on?" Logan asked.

"On vhen Gambit and Rogue start dating." He grinned. "But you did not hear it from me." He teleported away in a sulfurous poof.

"Now dat's interestin'." Gambit commented.

"Uh-huh." A few moments passed in silence.

"Let moi tell Rogue."

"Why?"

"I have a plan." Gambit smiled deviously. "And don' let on that you know anything about the bet." The look on Gambit's face promised a surprise for a certain Asian girl.

"Alright." Logan fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Just remember one thing, bub. You make Rogue cry - I make you bleed. Profusely."

"If I make Rogue cry, den I deserve to bleed. She's a very special femme and I take dis opportunity to tell yo' that my intentions are serious."

Logan glared at him appraisingly and gave an approving 'humph', satisfied at what he saw in the younger man's eyes. "Make sure that they stay that way."

Text Message to Angela Rodriguez: I'm sorry I didn't take that yoga class with you.

Text Message to Cheyenne Jackson: lol, that was 3 yrs ago - porque?

Text Message to Angela Rodriguez: I found out today that walking and lifting heavy books doesn't = physically fit

Text Message to Cheyenne Jackson: sore, huh?

Text Message to Angela Rodriguez: I just soaked in the tub and now I don't want to move. Ever. From this bed.

Text Message to Cheyenne Jackson: Pobresita! So still think yoga's silly?

Text Message to Angela Rodriguez: Not if it means I won't feel like a little old woman

Rogue had assured her that yoga would be a good pre-emptive strike, followed by soaking after work-outs with salt and warm water to not be quite so sore from Logan's sessions in the Danger Room.

"Ah was skeptical at first too, but it really does help."

"And it has totally made me way more flexible!" Kitty had added.

Thus it was that Cheyenne had joined the yoga group led by Storm to which all of the female staff, and apparently a good portion of the female students, belonged to. The group met twice a week in Storm's garden. Cheyenne was looking forward to it.

'More like looking forward to moving without feeling like my legs are made of over-stretched rubber.' Cheyenne thought. The young mutant was laying carefully on her side, covers pulled up to her waist, in bed with her wings acting as a blanket for her upper torso. It was the only safe position for her to lie under the covers. Laying on her stomach above the covers was alright, but doing so underneath risked her tearing holes in the sheet and blanket. Either way she couldn't lay on her back for fear of puncturing the mattress with her heels. Texting a goodnight to Angela, she yawned and then laughed at the response she received a few seconds later.

Text Message to Cheyenne Jackson: Night! P.S: I told u yoga was good 4 u! :P

She held down the off button, giving a small groan as she stretched out her hand to place the darkening screen on the cover of the book she was currently reading, which was resting on the nightstand. Another groan and the bedside lamp was off.

Soaking in the warm water of her very own tub in her private bathroom - having a bathroom that she didn't have to share, she'd decided, was something that she could definitely get used to - had been heavenly and the Epsom salt had done wonders for her abused muscles. Her time in the tub, however, couldn't undo the years of an academic lifestyle that included minimal physical exercise.

'At least I'll just have the Danger Room to deal with tomorrow.' She snuggled into her pillow, focusing on her breathing. 'I've been busy all day today - kind of like freshman orientation.' First it had been going down to the lab after breakfast so Hank could give her a physical, then getting measured for her uniform, then the Danger Room, lunch, discussing a religious cult that had genocide as one of it's long-term goals, joining a yoga group, meeting with the Professor and dinner.

Cheyenne had opted to go straight up to her room after dinner rather than hit the rec room with the others, craving a hot bath and soft bed above company at that point. 'I need all the sleep I can get.' She closed her eyes, making each breath deep and even as the Professor had instructed her. He had likened her mutation, during their meeting, to a spring.

"You've spent so many years repressing your powers, albeit unconsciously, since they first developed - constantly compressing the spring if you will, that now the spring is resisting compression. You need to acclimatize your body to be able to keep your wings retracted without thinking consciously about it." He had gone on to produce the medical report Hank had drawn up from that morning. From the tests and full body x-ray, Dr. McCoy had come to the conclusion that her hearing and sense of smell were clearly above the normal range, though not as acute as Wolverine's, and that she should be able to exert specific control over each talon and her wings. In other words, Cheyenne possessed the ability to extend her wings without extending her talons and to extend one talon without extending the others, or her wings.

The Professor had thought it best to start with focusing on being able to retract everything at once before moving on to working on her specific control. He wanted her to try to retract and keep her wings in for the duration of various activities during the day and until she fell asleep at night.

"Just relax, focus on your breathing and retract them for a little bit - say, while your buttering your toast or while you walk down a hallway." He had said.

'Makes sense.' Cheyenne thought drowsily, feeling pleased as she felt her wings and talons withdraw into her body. Cautiously she rolled onto her back, closed her eyes and continued to focus on deep, even breaths. Very soon she was asleep.

"That smells delicious!" Cheyenne sniffed appreciatively as she entered the kitchen.

"Thank you, Cheyenne." Storm replied graciously, serenely flipping pancakes.

"I can attest that they are indeed delicious." Hank McCoy had a generous plate full of pancakes before him and a loaded fork in his hand. Storm smiled at him and Beast smiled back somewhat bashfully. He returned his attention to his breakfast, raising the fork to his mouth with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other.

'I bet he's blushing underneath that fur.' Cheyenne theorized in bemusement, nodding to the two other occupants of the table as she took a seat next to Wolverine and across from Hank. "Good morning!"

"Good morning." Xavier replied pleasantly, his twinkling eyes betraying similar amusement.

"Mornin'." Logan took a sip of his coffee. "Training schedule and team listings there." He nodded at a piece of paper in a plastic cover in the middle of the table.

Remy LeBeau wouldn't have ever considered himself a morning person. The familial line of work had conditioned him to be more of a night person. As he walked out of his room, and caught sight of the back of a curvy lone figure clad in jeans, boots and a t-shirt with long gloves, however, he decided that mornings weren't all that bad.

"Mornin' chere!" He called, shutting his door.

"G'mornin'." Rogue turned and gave him a smile.

Gambit decided then and there that whatever part of the day that had Rogue smiling at him was the best by default. That smile had been his undoing the first time he'd seen it and every time he'd seen it since he'd only fallen harder. He had dug a pit that he would never get out of - something he'd realized only a few weeks into his stay at the mansion. The thought had struck him at how long he'd been away from his carousing lifestyle and then another thought had struck harder : with the sassy emerald-eyed femme around, he neither missed nor wanted it back in the least.

He caught up to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Present fo' yo'."

Rogue shook her head, bemused, as Gambit made a slip of paper appear seemingly from behind her ear with the hand not occupied in rubbing her shoulder. Her expression turned to one of delight as he handed the object to her and she realized it was not one slip of paper, but two.

"Tickets to the classic film festival!" Their leisurely stroll to the stairs halted as Rogue jumped up and down in excitement.

"So yo' approve of my plans fo' our first date?"

"Definitely! Ah've always wanted to go but…" Rogue's excited brain fully processed Remy's last question. "First date?"

Remy took Rogue's hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to it. "Rogue, will yo' do me the honor o' going out with me?"

Rogue had repeatedly told herself that she and Gambit were friends, nothing more. Remy LeBeau was just a touchy-feely, flirtatious person. There was nothing more to it, she had repeated to herself, when Gambit brought her coffee or complimented her or flirted with her. Just Remy LeBeau being Remy LeBeau. Remy LeBeau though, despite a rather skewed moral sense, was a dedicated and loyal friend and Rogue was confident that he wouldn't be asking her out from pity.

"Mah skin -"

"I don' care. It's yo' o' no one else." His voice was fierce and determined.

"If this is out of pity-" She started hesitantly.

"Yo' o' no one else." Gambit repeated, utterly serious. "Unless yo' don' want to go out with me-"

All of the feelings she had repressed about the red-eyed Cajun welled up and tumbled out in one word. "Yes!"

Remy's face fell and Rogue rushed to clarify. "I mean yes-yes Ah will go out with you!"

Gambit let out a whoop of delight and pulled a laughing Rogue into one of the hallway's decorative alcoves, pulling a silk handkerchief out of his pocket as he did so.

"Lizard Girl?" Bobby hazarded.

"I have absolutely nothing in common with a lizard."

"Well, dragons are really just big lizards with wings." Bobby defended.

"The vings and talons are all she has in common vith a dragon." Kurt pointed out, gesturing with his fork.

"She isn't green or scaly and she doesn't have a tail." Tabby agreed. "So not a lizard."

"Thank you." Cheyenne replied, taking another bite of fluffy pancake smothered in syrup.

"What's not a lizard?" Rogue inquired, catching the tail end of Boom Boom's statement as she entered the kitchen with Gambit and a yawning Jubilee, whom they'd met in the hall, in tow.

"Me." Cheyenne fixed her eyes on Gambit as he settled into a chair at the end of the table. "This is all your fault you know." She accused good-naturedly.

"Dat yo' not a lizard?" Gambit poured out three cups of coffee, handing the first to Jubilee, who looked considerably more awake after a sip. "I think yo' are confusing me with God, Puff. Although I have been call divine befo'." There were assorted giggles and groans at this.

"She's talking about this." Piotr passed the plastic sheet containing the training schedule and team listings down the table, while gently patting his girlfriend on the back. Kitty had been in the act of swallowing when Gambit had prompted her to giggle.

Rogue leaned in to look as Gambit received the sheet and began to scan over it. There were two teams of six. The first consisted of Storm, Beast, Wolverine, Iceman, Boom Boom and Nightcrawler. The second team was Gambit, Rogue - Gambit smirked, pleased - Colossus, Shadowcat, Jubilee and Puff. Remy blinked and read the last entry again. Then he laughed. "Shouldn't yo' be more grateful fo' me coming up with yo' codename?"

Logan shrugged, polishing off another pancake. "I had to put something down."

"I refuse to be called Puff as my official designation."

"Ah can't say I blame you."

"Aww, but it stands out so nicely from de other codenames!" Remy protested, red on black eyes twinkling.

"That is rather the point." Storm commented, neatly cutting up a pancake.

"So we have been brainstorming." Professor Xavier explained.

"I still like 'Dragon'." Hank put in.

"It's the best that we've come up with so far." Cheyenne agreed.

"Too masculine." Kitty dismissed.

"There are female dragons." Bobby protested.

"Name one." Jubilee challenged, alert after downing three-fourths of her coffee.

"The witch from Sleeping Beauty!"

"That would be Maleficent." Rogue identified. "And you said yourself, she's a witch."

"Who turns into a dragon." Bobby muttered.

"Plus she's evil so Cheyenne doesn't want her creepy name." Boom Boom said, swirling her last piece of pancake to collect any leftover syrup on her plate.

"Not to mention I'd probably have to pay Disney if I did."

"Royalties." Gambit agreed sagely.

Bobby snapped his fingers. "The dragon voiced by that chick from the Mummy!"

"Her name was Saphira." Cheyenne said. "She didn't go by 'Dragon'. It was such a good book." She shook her head in disappointment.

"I thought it was an okay movie."

"Yes, but it took a fall from the standard of the book."

"They would have been ahead to just title it something else and say that it was loosely based on the book." Rogue agreed.

"Hmm…" Xavier contemplated. "We're all agreed on a dragon themed name, aren't we?"

"If we aren't then this entire conversation has been a waste." Logan remarked.

"Yes." Cheyenne confirmed.

"Then what do we know about dragons?"

"They breathe fire." Logan looked at Cheyenne speculatively.

Cheyenne laughed. "If I could breathe fire then you might have ended up fried after the Danger Room yesterday." She teased. Logan grinned at this, chuckling.

"Heh. Canadian barbeque." Gambit remarked, causing Rogue to giggle.

"They are mythological creatures." Piotr mused.

"Ah!" Xavier snapped his fingers. "Myth!"

"Myth." Cheyenne smiled. "I like it!"

"Hey guys." Cheyenne greeted, taking a seat in the middle of the long couch in the rec room. "Ultra Galaxy Battle again?" Kurt was at one end of the couch and Bobby was at the other; both were clutching video game controllers in their hands, pressing buttons purposefully with their eyes glued to the television. In the case of Nightcrawler, buttons were also being pressed by his flexible tail.

"Yep." Bobby answered, cheering as one of Kurt's starships exploded. His cheer deteriorated into an 'awww' as his base planet exploded and the words 'Game Over. Player One Wins!' flashed on the screen.

Kurt chuckled, flicking his tail smugly. "So how vas the Danger Room today?"

"Better." Cheyenne replied, adjusting her wings around her in her favorite blanket position so as to be more comfortable. "I'm not as sore today." She leaned into the back of the couch, feeling rather pleased with herself. She had managed to keep her wings retracted throughout her entire fifteen minute, post Danger Room soak. This had been her fifth time in the Danger Room and she'd begun a definite routine. She would change in her room into one of the five pairs of mutilated sweat suits she now owned - Rogue had happily provided her with more school sweat suits so she wouldn't have to either visit the laundry room every day or face working out in stinky clothing and Logan had been kind enough to slice them up for her when she'd asked, looking pleased at her grateful thanks despite Gambit heckling him about moonlighting as a tailor. Then she would endure whatever Logan had planned that day, something she was slowly coming to see as fun in an odd sort of way now that her body was beginning to adapt. It was probably largely in part due to the fact that it gave her an excuse to fly. Flying had unquestionably taken its place as one of the things she loved most, right alongside history and books. After they finished in the Danger Room, she'd skip a shower in the locker room in favor of heading up to her own bathroom for a shower followed by a nice soak with some Epsom salt. Cheyenne would then don what was quickly becoming her customary outfit - a skirt, t-shirt with manually added wing holes and flip-flops. Before her mutation had manifested she had tended to wear skirts more anyway, but now that putting on jeans required coordinated effort and thought to prevent being ripped by the spikes emerging from her heels she found herself in a skirt on a daily basis.

"Pretty soon you'll be just like the rest of us." Bobby deposited the game controller on the table and stood up, stretching. "Only tired and mildly sore."

"Not up for a rematch, Bobby?" Kurt winked at Cheyenne. "Of course, I can understand if you're giving up."

"What! Oh, it's on Kurt." Bobby shook a finger at him. "I have to fix lunch now, but after we get done with the team session and dinner - we battle!"

"Get your butt kicked again, Bobby?"

"It was a close fight!" Bobby defended as Rogue and Gambit entered the room. "I took out his Druthinian Battle Cruiser."

"It vas very close." Kurt said charitably.

"You're jus' being nice." Remy pointed out.

"Hey!"

"I could beat yo' blindfolded, Iceboy."

"That sounds like a challenge to me - tournament?"

"Sure thing."

Kurt nodded.

"Alright then. I'll be defeating you two in galactic warfare later." Rogue and Cheyenne traded amused glances.

"Druthinian Battle Cruiser." Rogue muttered under her breath, chuckling.

"So what's for lunch Bobby?" Cheyenne inquired, interrupting the three men exchanging game faces.

"An amazing buffet of sandwiches!"

"As usual." Rogue remarked.

"Homme, I am going to have to give yo' cooking lessons."

"I'll have you know that I am a sandwich artist."

"It's true." Rogue agreed. "He worked at Subway one summer." Gambit snickered and Myth giggled. Kurt just looked confused.

" 'Sandwich Artist' is the official title of the people who make sandwiches at Subway." Cheyenne explained, catching Kurt's puzzled expression.

"Or at least that's what it says on their nametags." Rogue contributed.

"Ohhhh!" Kurt smiled in his enlightenment, comprehending the joke.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go work my magic."

"Well, now I'm looking forward to lunch." Cheyenne remarked as Bobby walked out the door. "If only to see Bobby's 'amazing sandwich buffet'."

"He does make a good variety." Kurt swiveled nimbly in his corner seat to face Cheyenne, Rogue and Remy.

Myth laughed suddenly. "Rogue, those sandwiches we had after y'all picked me up, Bobby made them didn't he?"

"And now you know where all the sandwiches around here come from." Rogue grinned.

Kurt placed the game controller in his hands on the low table dividing the entertainment center from the couch. "I do not think I have had to make myself a sandwich since I arrived."

"Me either." Gambit began playing with a strand of Rogue's hair.

Kurt and Cheyenne exchanged a brief look as Gambit gave Rogue an unrepentant smile, twisting the hair idly around a finger. The look clearly said 'those two are so going to end up together, it's only a matter of time'.

"So vould anyone like to be my practice for tonight's tournament?" Nightcrawler gestured at the TV.

"Actually," Rogue said, forestalling Cheyenne, who had been about to say that her videogame experience was limited to everyone's favorite red-clad plumber, "we wanted to ask for y'alls help on something."

'They look like a pair of cats that ate a whole flock of canaries.' Cheyenne mused, taking in the identical looks of mischievousness on her fellow southerners' faces. "Help with what?" She asked suspiciously.

"Lunch is ready." Cheyenne announced cheerfully as she walked through the open door.

"Awesome," Tabby remarked as she blew on her nails, "I could go for a sandwich about now." Tabby and Jubilee were laying across Jubilee's bed with the small TV resting on Jubilee's desk blaring, having just done their nails.

"Yeah, training in the morning always makes me uber hungry by the time lunch rolls around." Jubilee screwed the lid shut on a bottle of nail polish.

"Me too." Myth agreed, leaning against the doorway. "So Jubilee, Kurt tells me you're running a pool on when Rogue and Gambit get together."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. The X-Men are the property of Marvel. Marvel is the property of Disney. I only own Cheyenne. All comments and criticism are welcome but please keep all criticism constructive!

Seated on the low wooden bench in the women's locker room, Cheyenne slipped her feet into her specially made boots as Rogue laced up her own footwear, Kitty pulled her hair back into a ponytail and Tabby cinched her belt around her waist. Storm was adjusting the tops of her boots to fit more comfortably around her legs while Jubilee pulled on a pair of socks.

The thin layer of reinforced metal locked into place around the spike emerging from her left heel and Myth tugged the zipper up the back of the sturdy black leather. She secured the zipper at the top of the boot, which stopped a few inches short of her knee, underneath a tab of leather equipped with a button. The boots were designed so that she could put them on in a hurry if need be, whether her talons were out or not. Her suit was designed in a similar fashion with nearly invisible zippers running up to her mid-thighs so that she could easily step into her suit without fear of ripping anything. There was also a zipper on each sleeve; one long zipper ran along the underside of her arm, from her wrist to just below her armpit. Then she just had to put her arm through a hole, fit her spike into the metal-enforced hole at her elbow and zip up the sleeve. Two reinforced slits in the back of the suit accommodated her wings and the front sported an 'X', dyed to match the emerald hue of her wings. Topping off her ensemble was a sturdy belt that's main function was to hold the communicator she'd been issued.

'It really is comfortable.' Myth marveled, not for the first time, as she zipped up her other boot. This would be her third time wearing her suit, which she had decided was wonderful despite her initial, and still a little lingering, discomfort at being seen in what was, essentially, a leather jumpsuit. Plus she now looked like a real member of the team and not, as Jubilee had remarked after one of their training sessions, like "a psycho escaped gym student".

Standing up from the bench and stretching, she felt a surge of gratitude towards whoever Xavier employed as a tailor. 'I think I would be more nervous if I had to do this in a sweat suit.'

As Gambit descended the Babybird toward the roof of the F.o.H facility, Cheyenne mentally reviewed their plan of attack. She swallowed, jittery, as the stealth-cloaked jet began the process of landing. 'Take out the security, knock out any guards, rescue the prisoners, bring those that require medical attention back to the mansion, return the uninjured to their homes and give them panic buttons and the mansion's phone number.' She recited to herself. 'I am prepared. We will be fine.' Myth continued, as the jet landed silently.

"Time to kick some butt!" Jubilee cheered, releasing the buckle on her seatbelt from her seat next to Myth as Rogue, in the copilot's chair, flicked the switch to lower the ramp.

"Indeed it is." Gambit grinned at Colossus, who was already up and assisting Shadowcat out of her seat.

"Den let's get to it, mes amis."

Myth trailed behind Rogue at the rear of the group as they exited the jet. The exit ramp raised at the touch of a button on a small remote which Gambit stashed away in one of the many pockets on his trench coat. They made their way over to the small sheltered roof entrance door, about twenty feet from the jet, where Kitty helpfully phased her hand into the lock, pushing the mechanism into the unlocked position.

Gambit was first through the door, taking out the lone security camera in the stairwell with an expertly thrown charged playing card. The camera was fizzing on the floor dead, having never caught its murderer on film, as the group of X-Men strode purposefully past it.

The facility, which masked its sins under the title of The Friend's of Humanity Information and Outreach Center, was two stories tall with a basement. On the first floor they did in fact hold informational meetings for prospective members and supporters in addition to arranging information booths at conventions and the like. The second floor, which the X-Men were currently making their way through, was composed of offices.

"Oh, I love two fo' une deals!" Gambit commented as Jubilee took out two security cameras with a single firework, leaving them with gaping holes in their sides.

"Me too!" Jubilee agreed, looking satisfied with herself.

Rogue smirked. "Ah'm sure the guards will share your enthusiasm when they come to investigate."

"Well, there won't be that many of them if they think they're just having technical difficulties." The little black box on the wall gave a pathetic high-pitched whine that caused Cheyenne to grit her teeth as Kitty pulled her phased hand out of it. "That takes care of the first two floors." The basement had extra security measures according to what Kitty had found out.

Fifteen minutes later saw the team standing outside the reinforced door leading to the basement. All that remained to mark their presence in the building thus far was a busted security system, several destroyed security cameras, and three unconscious guards, one of which Rogue had knocked out with a swift touch to the forehead while the other two had the dubious honor of having their heads knocked together cartoon-style by Colossus. The guards were then deposited by the front door, where Kitty phased their legs into the floor to make sure they couldn't go anywhere if they came to anytime soon.

"There're only three more guards." Rogue informed them as Gambit expertly picked the lock. "Five prisoners. The guy Ah absorbed wasn't involved in the torture, just knows how many of the cells are in use."

Gambit, finished with the lock, opened the door a crack and peeked through. "One on de stairs, looks like he's coming to see what happened to his buddies." His arm shot out and grabbed Rogue, preventing her from going to take care of him. "He's got a gun."

Colossus armored up, turning into his metal form. "Allow me then." The guard let out a shriek as he caught sight of the muscular man coated in metal standing in the now open doorway at the top of the stairwell.

"Did he just scream like a little girl?" Myth asked in surprise from where she crouched on the side of the doorway next to Jubilee and Kitty. As an extra precaution her wings were outstretched around them like a blast shield.

"Yeah, he did." Kitty talked in her ear over the sudden noise of gunshots rebounding off of Piotr's metal hide.

"Sounds like Tabby when she sees a spider." Jubilee's voice suddenly no longer had to compete with the gunshots, allowing Rogue, who was huddled next to Gambit behind the door on the other side of the doorway, to hear and prompting her to chuckle.

Remy began to speak, but was interrupted by voices on the stairwell. "Dave - what the? Open fire!" The sound of bullets bouncing off of Colossus rang out again in addition to the confused, and decidedly panicked yells of the two remaining guards.

Then there was silence. "Guess he's finished." Jubilee remarked, rising to move through the doorway.

"Hold it!" Myth yanked her back.

"Watch out!" Colossus yelled from the bottom of the stairwell.

The sound of footsteps rapidly nearing became audible to the members of the group who didn't have superior hearing; the faster footsteps were echoed by Piotr's slower, heavier metal tread.

Cheyenne was still standing nearer to the doorway than the others from pulling back Jubilee, when a man clad in the stereotypical security guard ensemble burst through the door with a gun held loosely in his hands. He had a foot and a good hundred pounds on the mutant before him.

Reacting from experience born of multiple forays into the Danger Room, Myth sliced the talon on her right elbow into the barrel of the gun and let fly with her left fist. The security guard was suddenly getting some up close and personal time with the tiled floor.

"Nice!" Jubilee exclaimed.

"Awww, you guys! It's Myth's first bad guy!" Kitty enthused.

'I just knocked a guy out.' Myth blinked, frozen with a gun stuck to her elbow and a man crumpled at her feet.

"Darn!" Gambit snapped his fingers. "Rogue, we forgot the camera!"

"Ah knew we were forgetting something." Rogue deadpanned. "This is what you get for rushin' me out of the house."

"I just knocked a guy out!" Myth cheered, jumping up and down in excitement and causing the gun, no longer operational, stuck to her elbow to fall off with a clatter. 'Yeah! I'm an X-Man….woman…whatever! I took down a bad guy!' Cheyenne felt ridiculously pleased with herself and not so much like deadweight to the mission.

"Congratulations." Piotr replied in amusement, filling the doorway with his bulk. He had a guard slung over each shoulder.

"You did good, hun." Rogue congratulated as Gambit picked up the unconscious guard by his arms.

Remy unceremoniously dragged the guy to the pile of bad guys where Colossus was depositing his cargo. Kitty searched the pockets of one man while Piotr turned out the other man's pockets.

"Ah-hah!" Kitty crowed jubilantly. "Card key!"

"Swap ya, Chaton." Gambit dropped the Friends of Humanity worker next to her with an audible thump.

'Oh, that's gonna leave a bruise.' Myth winced. 'If I haven't bruised him already, though really that's what he gets for working with a bunch of nut jobs.' Her expression hardened, turning serious once more. 'Working with, phooey! He is one of the nut jobs. Who knows what he's done to the mutants down there, or any mutants before this for that matter.' An image popped into her mind of a blown-up photograph she had once seen at a World War II museum of American GIs held by the Japanese as prisoners of war. They had looked like little more than living skeletons, badly malnourished with eyes that were haunted and haunting in turn.

Myth marched purposefully, determination and confidence - 'I knocked a guy out!' echoing in her head - taking over her demeanor as she followed Remy and Rogue into the stairwell, Jubilee traipsing after her. Piotr remained behind with Kitty as she phased the legs of the new additions into the floor in what was eerily beginning to resemble some odd piece of modern art. Colossus kept a watchful eye lest any of the guards woke up and decided to make trouble.

"Creepy stairwell much?" Jubilee shivered as they trudged down the admittedly not well-lit staircase. "It looks like Freddy Krueger carried his victims down here."

"It fits in with the whole insane evil cult theme they have going on." Rogue tapped on the thin line of track lighting running along the wall with a gloved finger. An identical line of lighting ran on the opposite wall providing for a very horror movie-esque, 'walk in here and be killed' atmosphere.

"I'm sure dey paid dere interior designer extra fo' dat 'Nightmare on Elm Street' feel." Gambit quipped.

The three girls chuckled as they reached the bottom of the staircase. "Ah think the man screamin' like a five year old girl ruined the mood though."

"I thought screaming like a little girl was a staple of the horror genre." Myth piped up as Gambit swiped the key through the lock.

"Yeah, for the victims." Jubilee pointed out as the little light on the door flashed green and Gambit opened it.

"Villains not so much." Rogue agreed as Gambit ushered them in.

Myth paused, sniffing. A scent that would be out of place in any normal office building hit her nose. "Someone's lost some blood." She hurried forward, following the slightly metallic smell towards the cell at the end of the hall.

Gambit strode forward and quickly ran the key through the lock, wasting no time in flinging the door open. "Mon Dieu!" He exclaimed at the sight before them.

There was a man cruelly strapped to what appeared to be a modified upright hospital gurney. His clothes were torn in places and stained with dirt and the odd patch of dried blood. The man's skin was a pine green color, covered in grime and caked in spots with crusty patches of red.

It was his face, however, that caused Cheyenne to inhale sharply and move forward to his aid. Black hair fell to his shoulders in a matted, greasy unwashed mess and it was easily visible to see the parts of his face that had once held piercings. The Friends of Humanity, it seemed, had felt the need to forcibly remove his body art. His left eyebrow and right nostril were surrounded in dry pools of blood that had dripped unchecked down his face, leaving gruesome trails of dark crimson. Topping off the atrocities the Friends of Humanity had perpetrated was a thick muzzle over the lower half of his face, connected to sturdy cords driven into the gurney with nails. Golden irises on black sclera were watching her intently, despite the obvious war he was waging to keep his eyes open.

"Don't worry." Cheyenne said soothingly, making eye contact as she stood before him. "We're here to help. I'm going to get you down."

"Toad!" Jubilee's exclamation brought the captive's eyes, which had fallen to half-lidded, fully open.

"You know him?" Myth inquired, shifting her attention from the man's bewitching optics to the individual straps binding his wrists and upper arms. 'I think it'll cause him less pain if I just cut them off.' The straps looked painfully tight and had dug into his skin, evidenced by the redness of irritation on his uniquely colored skin around the edges of the straps. 'First I'll get that stupid thing off his face though.'

"He works for Magneto." Rogue explained. They had filled Cheyenne on Erik Lensherr's goals and life views several days ago - namely that he was the polar opposite the Friends of Humanity, believing mutants to be a superior race - after Bobby had made a comment about 'Bucket head' that had earned him a confused look from the bewildered Texan. Magneto was currently languishing in a specially built plastic containment cell, but none of the X-Men had much faith that he would remain there permanently.

"Dat explains why dey have him so tied up." Gambit mused. "Dey probably thought dey'd struck it rich with him."

"Probably." Rogue agreed. "You okay getting him down on your own Myth?"

"I'm going to need Colossus' help. He's not going to be able to walk out of here."

"On it!" Jubilee hustled down the hallway.

"Meanwhile we'll get de others out." Gambit moved off quickly to the other cells, concerned about the condition of the other prisoners.

"Holler if you need any help."

"Will do." Myth affirmed. She looked back to the eyes watching her from lowered lids. "Okay," she said, feeling it best to keep him informed as he seemed to be fighting to stay alert, "I'm going to cut off the muzzle first." She raised an elbow to show him what she would be cutting with. Rather than try to work from the ground, Cheyenne opted to flap her wings so that she was hovering at an operable position for her short height and then jab the point of her talon through the upper right cable.

The cable snapped like dental floss and the muzzle leaned forwards from where it had been pressed against skin. Toad groaned in pain.

"Sorry!" Myth apologized hastily. She gently placed her left hand around the muzzle as best she could to prevent further jostling, and stabbed through the remaining right cord with her elbow. This accomplished she carefully pulled the device free of his face to hang useless next to his head. She hissed in sympathy as she took in the left side of his lower lip, which was bloody and swollen.

Her noise of empathy was echoed by a deeper voice from the hallway. Glancing over her shoulder, she was relieved to see Piotr. "Shall I hold him while you cut his arms and legs free?'

"Yes, please." She landed and the muscular Russian moved forward to stand in front of the gurney. 'This'll be a lot easier if I don't have to support his weight and cut him free at the same time.'

The band around his left wrist was the first point of attack; she sliced through the material carefully on one side and peeled it back gently off his chafed skin. Reaching up on her tiptoes she repeated the process on his left bicep, biting her lip as a soft noise of pain made its way around his abused lower lip.

Piotr placed Toad's freed arm around his neck and looped his own arm underneath the other man's arm pit. Kneeling Cheyenne made quick work of the bands securing his left leg in place. As she carefully peeled back the band securing his ankle in place, however, some slight movement drew her attention to his foot.

'Three webbed toes.' She noted, a little distracted by the sight of a foot without the standard five toes to immediately notice what had caught her attention. Then she winced, craning her neck around Colossus' legs to get a look at Toad's other foot and verify that what she was seeing wasn't normal. His left toe was bent at an unnatural angle form the other long digits. "Be careful with his left foot when you move him - looks like his toe is broken." Myth cautioned as she moved to the left side of the gurney.

"Da." Piotr replied.

"How are yo' two doing in here?" Gambit asked from the doorway.

"Almost done." Myth remarked absently, her concentration on slicing through the band on Toad's right wrist.

"He is in pretty bad shape." Colossus addressed the Cajun. "How are the others?"

"Hungry and thirsty, but nothing more serious dan a couple o' cuts and bruises. Shadowcat and Rogue are taking dem up to the jet." Myth finished removing the band around Toad's wrist and reached up to push her elbow through the band circling the bicep of his right arm. "Jubilee's getting everything set up for the fire-"

"Oh!" Cheyenne gasped at the sight of crimson.

"What is it?" Piotr asked in concern as he edged his left arm underneath Toad's right arm.

"Yo' alright Puff?"

"I thought I'd cut him." Myth explained, relieved to see that the crimson was etched into his skin and edged in black. "It's just a tattoo." She removed the band from his skin, denying her curiosity to see what exactly he had a tattoo of.

"All set!" Jubilee's voice came over Gambit's communicator.

Gambit fished his communicator out of a pocket. "I'm headed yo' way."

"Done!" Myth announced, peeling back the last remaining band from Toad's leg and rising. Piotr hoisted the injured green man up and arranged him Lois Lane-style in his arms, careful of his injured foot. Gambit motioned them out the door.

"Rogue," Gambit spoke into his communicator as the three X-Men walked down the short cell block, "would yo' be an angel and send me an all clear when Myth and Colossus get on de jet?" He held the door open for the others to pass through.

The reply was prompt from the other end as the quartet ascended what Jubilee had privately dubbed 'The Freddy Krueger Staircase of Doom'. "Guess Ah'm an angel then."

"Dere was never any doubt about it chere." Gambit sent back smoothly, smiling as he tucked his communicator back into its designated pocket in his trench coat.

Myth skipped up the last few steps to open the door, pushing it open as far as its hinges would allow so that Colossus would have plenty of room to maneuver. As it was, Piotr edged through the door at an angle to avoid knocking his passenger's feet. Gambit followed close behind him.

"I'm off to make t'ings go boom. See y'all in a bit!"

Colossus nodded. "Be careful."

"Okay, bye." Myth replied distractedly, her focus on the man in Piotr's arms. 'The seats don't recline that much that he'd be able to sleep comfortably,' she rationalized, hurrying forward to be in the front so that she could open doors for the Russian and his burden as Gambit headed off to meet Jubilee, 'plus I'm sure he's had enough of being on his back.' They made their way up to the second floor, Colossus moving fast as he could without unduly jostling Toad.

'I can sit next to him and we can lay him on his right side - that way I can hold onto him to make sure he doesn't roll off the seats and he can use my lap as a pillow.' Cheyenne planned. She held the door open to the second floor for Colossus, who moved through it with his cargo as he had the previous doorways. As they made their way toward the roof entrance, Myth reiterated her thoughts on Toad's travel arrangements to Colossus.

"That is a good idea." Piotr remarked as Cheyenne held the door to the hallway giving on to the stairs to the roof for him. "We will need to get him to at least drink a little as well. If the others were hungry and thirsty then he most likely is as well."

"Right." Myth agreed as they made their way past the destroyed security cameras. "And I can at least clean out the cuts on his face until we can get him to Hank."

"I think we have a few ice packs in the first aid kit. We can strap one to his foot."

"Good idea!" Cheyenne held the door open to the last stairwell. "That's probably all we can give him for the pain." Golden eyes gazed hazily at her through half-open lids as Colossus edged past her. "I don't think it's a good idea to give him pain meds; it looks like they drugged him."

"We do not want any bad reactions." Piotr concurred. "I would not put it past the F.o.H to use illegal drugs either."

Cheyenne hurried up the narrow stairwell, feeling a simultaneous urge to tend to the wounded man and go bang a few cultist heads then leave them tied to a gurney. 'And I would tie them upside down.' She thought violently as she watched Toad's eyelids fall shut only to snap back open from the top of the stairs as Piotr moved towards her. 'Hopefully he'll quit fighting to stay awake on the ride back. The rest would do him good.' She turned and pushed open the roof access door, tilting her head at the odd sight of the lowered ramp on the still stealthed jet. There was empty air then there was Kitty standing at the top of the ramp, illuminated by the well-lit interior of the jet, waving at them.

"You're good to go, sugah." Rogue notified Gambit via her communicator from her seat in the copilot's chair.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Kitty went off to fetch the box she'd left on a nearby seat after tending to the cuts of the other former prisoners.

Myth sat down in the window seat of the last row, folding up the armrest between the two seats and arranging her wings so that only her right wing was tucked around her. Her left wing she allowed to stretch out against the backs of the seats. 'I can use it to help keep him from rolling and he can use it as a blanket.' She thought as Piotr carefully lowered Toad down on his right side, resting his head in Myth's lap. It was a tight fit, but, with how curled up he was, Piotr managed to lay Toad out in relative comfort.

Cheyenne wrapped her left wing around the green man, cradling his head in her arms. Brushing back the tangled black mass of hair gently out of his face in an effort to make him more comfortable, she caught sight of his ears and winced. "They really worked you over good, didn't they?" She whispered, tracing her fingers in the air above the places in his ear that had once held piercing.

Toad gave a sleepy grunt of agreement, reminding Cheyenne of Angela after she'd had her wisdom teeth out and strengthening her belief that the Friends of Humanity had drugged him in some way.

"Here's some water." Piotr handed over a bottle of water from the ice chest.

"And I've got the first aid kit." Kitty announced. "Pete said he had a broken toe. Which - Never mind," she canceled her question as she got a look at his foot and the toe leaning at an obviously wrong angle. "Let's get an ice pack on that."

"Toad," Myth said, unscrewing the cap off the bottle of water, "You need to drink some water then you can go to sleep, okay?"

The green man's eyelids, which had been drooping, opened once more as Myth gingerly lifted his head and held the bottle to the less abused side of his mouth. She tilted the bottle up a little and Toad parted his lips to lap greedily as the water. After a few moments full of slurping, Cheyenne removed the bottle to give him time to breathe. 'Don't want to overdo it. Too much water will make him sick.'

Her timing proved to be very fortunate for at that moment Kitty sandwiched two ice packs around Toad's foot.

"Bloody 'ell!" Toad groaned, voice hoarse as he jolted at the contact to his injured digit.

Cheyenne and Kitty both startled at the unexpected voice. 'He's British.' Cheyenne thought dumbly as she very nearly spilled water all over herself and Toad.

"There we go." Kitty said, tying a bandage around the two ice packs to hold them in place. "Scared me half to death."

"Me too." Myth agreed as Toad sank back into her lap.

" 'Urts…" He muttered sleepily, eyelids closing.

"Shh…" Myth soothed, rubbing a hand against his cheek. "Go to sleep."

"Time to go." Piotr called from the ramp, where he'd been keeping watch.

Kitty quickly jumped in the seat across the aisle, buckling up. "Everybody buckle up!"

Colossus slid into the seat next to Kitty as Gambit bounded up the ramp and into the jet, closely followed by Jubilee. Rogue, who had the jet prepped for take-off, flicked the switch to raise the ramp. Gambit took his place in the pilot's chair and they were in the air in moments.

"Call it in, if yo' would, chere." Gambit requested.

"On it." Rogue stated, picking up a phone Kitty had rigged to come across as a local pay-phone to any tracing programs. "Hello?" Her voice was panicky and breathless. "There's a fire at the Friends of Humanity building on fifth and Maple!"


	6. Chapter 6

To adelphe24: Thank you so much! I'm so sorry it's taken me a long time to update, but hopefully I should be updating on a more regular schedule now.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. If I did then Toad would have made appearances in all of the movies. Cheyenne, however, is my brain child.

Cheyenne woke up lying on her stomach, the left side of her face resting against her pillow while her hands were burrowed underneath it. Closing her eyes, she attempted to piece together the dream she'd been having. A pair of yellow eyes staring at her intently was all her newly-woken brain offered.

'Toad.' She rationalized, opening her eyes and propping her chin on her pillowcase. Withdrawing her arms from beneath their feathery prison, she folded them in front of her. 'After yesterday, it only makes sense that I'd dream about him. He did spend the entire jet ride asleep in my lap.' The memory of the green-skinned, and according to what she gathered from remarks made by her teammates, tough guy snuggling into her in his sleep and the complaining whimper, accompanied by the crinkling of his inky eyebrows, the still-asleep Toad had made when Piotr had lifted him off her brought a smile to her lips. 'And I did spend a good majority of the jet ride looking at his face while I cleaned off the blood.' Feeling a familiar pressure in her back, she yawned and twisted off her stomach to slide out of bed. Her wings popped free and folded themselves neatly behind her back as she padded around her room, absent-mindedly gathering her clothes for the day while her mind was elsewhere.

To be precise, her thoughts were down a flight of stairs and an elevator ride away, sleeping soundly in a bed in the med bay.

The cuts on his face from where the F.o.H had torn out his piercings hadn't looked quite so bad once she'd cleaned off the blood. This was probably due to the sticky build-up around his torn flesh that he apparently secreted from his skin. She had confirmed this by experimentally wiping away a bit of the substance then watching as it slowly but surely oozed out of his pores to once again coat the injured area. It was unquestionably a bit gross to watch, but undeniably useful. The slime his skin produced not only aided in the healing process, but Hank had theorized when she pointed it out to him that it helped to fight off infection.

'It's a good thing for him if it does.' She recalled a fellow orchestra member who had been rather antsy around needles who had decided to pierce her ears herself - gradually. Using a paperclip. Thankfully, she had stopped and paid a visit to the doctor when her ears turned red, swollen and began to ooze pus. 'Ugh.' Cheyenne winced envisioning Toad's face in a similar situation as she deposited her outfit for the day on the bed. The Friends of Humanity seemed more inclined to inflict wounds rather than treat them; it would have been all too easy for one of his cuts to get infected with him strapped to that gurney.

Toad's straight, slightly wide, nose and his pointed, almost elfin-like, ears luckily had borne no signs of infection; neither did his lip. 'Those cuts are still going to be tender though.' Cheyenne thought as she walked into the bathroom. 'Hopefully the one on his lip won't hurt too much when he talks or eats.' She turned on the faucet and proceeded to splash cold water on her face. 'He's probably still out for the count right now though.' Squeezing a dab of face scrub from the tube resting next to the sink, she began to lather it across her face.

The mirror behind the sink reflected the crinkling of her eyebrows a she rinsed the soap off with a corner of washcloth doused in cold water. Her own reflection prompted the image of black eyebrows on green skin crinkling together in pain above golden eyes - ' 'urts…'. Kitty had just put the icepacks on his foot.

'His toe!' She finished wiping the soap off her face and bit her lip. 'Hank did give him pain meds last night in an IV but…' Spreading her washcloth on the towel rack to dry, she shook her head at herself. 'I'm sure Hank's already been down to check on him. He's the doctor, not me. Besides, if I went down there the only thing I could do would be watch him sleep or accidentally wake him up. I'll ask Hank how he is at breakfast, or if he's not there I'll ask the Professor; I'm sure he'd know.' She decided, slightly assuaging her desire to check up on the British man who she'd cut down from a gurney the previous night. 'Maybe I could look in on him later though, when he's up to having visitors.'

He was hungry. That was the first thing to come to Toad's attention upon waking up. The second was that he'd been asleep. Real, undisturbed sleep. No guards had come to wake him up at irregular intervals by yelling and or hitting him. And he wasn't sleeping on that demonic hospital reject.

He took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings and reveling in not having the bottom half of his face muzzled.

Toad smirked, wincing a bit at his stiff lower lip. The Friends of Humanity had soon learned that the phrase 'tongue lashing' was more than strictly metaphorical when it came to him.

He was in some sort of medical facility. That much was obvious from the IV sticking out of his wrist and the hospital bed he was laying in. Toad wasn't in a hospital though. That was obvious on the lack of restraining bands and police officers alone. He was in the last bed in a row of five beds. The wide metal doors beyond the bed on the other end of the row was emblazoned with a large stylized 'X' that immediately clued him in to his location.

' 'ow'd I get 'ere?' Toad thought, shifting his head to get a look at the smaller door nearest his bed. Wracking his brain, past jumbled memories of having his piercings torn out lip ring first and the irritation tinged with panic he'd felt as one of the Friends of Humanity goons that had jumped him managed a lucky shot with a tranquilizer gun after he'd taken out three of them, he thought he remembered being carried. His brow scrunched in thought - there had been a voice whispering to him softly. 'A girl's voice. And eyes the color of the ocean.' Toad let his head sink back on the pillow beneath him, debating whether the last bit had been real or a hallucination brought on by pain and starvation.

"Ah, I thought I heard rustling out here." A voice announced. Toad's deductions as to his location were confirmed by the large blue-furred man in a white lab coat now padding towards him. "How're you feeling?"

Toad eyed Beast critically. "What 'appened to the F.o.H?"

"They are undoubtedly occupied with answering questions from the police as to the prison-cells that firefighters discovered when they were called to put out the fires at two of their facilities." Hank McCoy chuckled. "And some of them are probably nursing wounds and headaches. Now, how are you feeling?"

"I'm 'ungry." He gingerly reached past his tangled locks and lightly fingered the spot in his ear where a piercing used to be, wincing as his thumb and forefinger brushed over the protective layer secreted by his skin. "Bloody 'ell, they got 'em all, didn't they?" He scowled, fidgeting his legs in his displeasure only to let out a cry of pain.

"Yes, and they also managed to break one of your toes in the process." Beast stated wryly, gesturing to his patient's left foot. "You'll need to keep off of that foot for a while."

"Well, that's jus' brilliant." Toad muttered, crossing his arms.

"Myth was quite concerned." Beast continued, checking Toad's vitals and eyeing the grumpy Englishman on the bed out of the corners of eyes beaming with intelligence.

"Myth?"

"Mmm-hmm." Beast agreed. "Well, I'll just go fetch Charles and see about getting you something to eat." The blue-furred doctor announced, finishing his examination and adjusting Toad's bed so that he was more upright.

'Cheyenne.'

The Texan jumped a bit in the rather fluffy arm chair she was ensconced in, upsetting the book spread across her lap. 'Professor?'

'Yes, I'm sorry I startled you. Would you mind bringing some food down to the Med Lab? Toad is awake and hungry.'

'Oh, that's good news! No, I don't mind at all. I'll grab some food and be right down.' Cheyenne thought back, closing 'The Hobbit' and rising from her seat in the corner of the recreation room.

'Thank you. Doubtless there are plenty of sandwiches lying about from Bobby's sandwich buffet.' Charles Xavier replied, amusement tingeing his tone as he broke the telepathic connection.

The corners of Cheyenne's lips pulled up in humor as she exited the room to the sounds of Bobby and Kurt having yet another epic space battle. Remy and Kurt had tied in the recent gaming tournament the boys had held, both of them managing to oust Bobby to his chagrin. As such, the Iceman had spent almost all of his free time on the gaming system preparing for a rematch.

She strolled down the stairs, idly rubbing the ingrained gilt 'T' on the cover of the book in her hands. A visit to the mansion's library that morning had turned up the older edition of one of J.R.R Tolkien's best-loved tales and she hadn't been able to resist it's siren call. It was a relief for her to be able to settle down and read. The winged mutant had been horribly restless all morning, a restlessness that hadn't been eased by the discovery of a beautiful baby grand piano in a small room off of the corridor leading to the library. Her fingers had positively itched to trace down the ivory of the keys, but upbringing had prevailed and she'd stuck to the tenet delivered to her first by her mother and then by her experience in the musical world - never, ever touch another person's instrument without their permission. Happily, after perusing several shelves, she'd stumbled upon 'The Hobbit' and been able to forget about how wonderful Chopin would probably sound on that piano, and even about the wounded green mutant in the Med Bay, by immersing herself in the world of Bilbo Baggins.

'Now, if I were Toad what type of sandwich would I like?' Cheyenne thought as she entered the kitchen, placing the book in her arms carefully on the counter and opening the refrigerator to pull out the container where Bobby's excess sandwiches were kept. "Should've asked the Professor to ask him." She muttered to herself as she rummaged through the bin. Selecting five different sandwiches, she set them aside and replaced the top of the plastic container. Experience had taught her that it was always better to err on the side of having leftovers when catering to the male appetite. 'Better grab a bottle of water, too.' The brunette mused as she settled the bin back in it's appropriate spot. 'I'm sure Hank has given him some already but nothing beat's the taste of ice cool water.' Selecting a bottle of chilled water from the side of the refrigerator, Cheyenne shut the door and turned to a nearby cabinet for a plate. "There we go." She murmured, stacking the sandwiches on the plate and resting the bottle next to the plastic wrapped sandwiches horizontally. Grasping the plate in her right hand, she tucked the book she'd spent the morning with under her other arm and set off towards the elevator leading down to the mansion's lower levels.

With her free hand, she lightly tapped an inconspicuous bit of paneling along the wall. Her touch was rewarded with a soft pneumatic hiss that her elevated hearing easily picked up and the wall seamlessly slid apart on itself to reveal the chrome doors of the elevator. There was a gentle ping and the doors slid open noiselessly. 'To the Bat Cave!' Cheyenne thought cheerfully as she strode into the elevator. 'It's a little bit silly,' she contemplated as the doors swished shut and the elevator began its downward descent, 'to be this excited about meeting a man who's one of the 'bad guys' but after last night, seeing what he went through…it can't have been easy growing up green.' She sighed, shaking her head a bit as the elevator pinged yet again and the doors rolled open. 'I'm lucky to have a father and friends who truly care about me.' She emerged from the elevator and headed towards the Med Lab. 'You can't fault me for being intrigued about him though.' A smile crossed her face. 'Especially when he's so adorable when he's sleeping, just like a little puppy. Who wouldn't be worried about an injured puppy?'

The smile on the Texan's face turned hesitant and shy as the motion sensors on the door to the Med Lab were activated and the steel slid back to accommodate her, causing three heads to swivel towards her. One of which belonged to a green-skinned mutant who was propped up in bed, scowling and not looking remotely-puppy like.

"Ah, there you are, Cheyenne." The Professor greeted, shifting his wheelchair to face her more fully as she approached.

"Myth." Beast nodded, treating her to a brief smile before swiveling his head to hide the smirk that was threatening to steal across his face at the expression replacing the scowl on his patient's face.

"Hello." Cheyenne said shyly, a slight blush crossing her face as she smiled uncertainly at Toad.

'Not a hallucination then.' Toad thought dumbly as he stared at the girl before him. She was petite, about five foot one, and her hair was a rich dark brown, pulled back in a ponytail. It was her eyes though that caught his attention. They were a deep entrancing shade somewhere between blue and green that reminded him of the color of the ocean - a sight he'd seen often piloting for Magneto to and from their island base, but that he'd never ceased to enjoy.

"Cheyenne, this is Mortimer Toynbee." The mention of his name brought Toad out of his musings, a slight wince crossing his face at the mention of his full name. "Mr. Toynbee, this is Cheyenne Jackson, also known as Myth."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Toynbee. I'm so glad you're awake."

"Mort." Toad corrected, inserting the only other moniker he tolerated and eying the woman before him curiously but warily too - experience had taught him that a pretty face didn't necessarily equate to a kind personality.

"Mort." Cheyenne repeated. 'It suits him.' She thought. "I brought you some sandwiches and a bottle of cold water." She paused, a worry stealing its way onto her face as she took in his still swollen lip. "If your lip is too sore to eat them, I could always go make you some soup."

"'M fine with sandwiches." Mort replied, not willing to sacrifice glorious solid food, at the same time Hank murmured that it was up to him.

"Okay then." Cheyenne acknowledged, carefully depositing her cargo on the side tray of the bed after Hank McCoy swiveled it up and over, locking it in to place.

"The 'obbit." Mort read aloud in surprise, catching a glimpse of one of his favorite books. It was the first book he'd ever really owned, not that he'd bought it. He'd been about eleven or so, living on the streets after finally escaping the orphanage that his parents had dropped him at hours after his birth, and had filched a box of clothes from the back of a thrift store. It was back in the tiny, rank but relatively dry, alcove off the sewer system that had been his home before Magneto had discovered him that he'd found the worn book at the bottom of the box.

"Ah, Tolkien." Beast remarked appreciatively.

Professor Xavier recognized the cover. "Always an excellent reading choice; I take it you've been visiting the library?"

Cheyenne nodded. "I can never resist the early editions. The older books just seem to have an extra charm that's all their own."

"It's the smell." Mort asserted, swallowing a bite of the ham sandwich he'd unwrapped.

"Well that's definitely part of it." Cheyenne replied, eyes lighting up. "It's also the texture of the pages."

"And the print." Toad mused, gesturing a bit with the sandwich in his hand.

"Exactly!" Myth smiled in agreement. "It's that each book is so…"

"Unique?" Beast supplied.

"Unique." The Texan nodded in confirmation. "That's it exactly."

"It's very refreshing and appealing in our society to have something that isn't mass produced and pre-packaged." Xavier pointed out wisely.

Mort nodded, unscrewing the water bottle Myth had brought him and gingerly, mindful of his lip, took a swig.

"Would you like me to bring you some books?" Cheyenne inquired. "If you're going to be stuck down here, it'll get boring."

"Yeah, if 'm goin' to have to stay down 'ere then it'd be nice to 'ave something to read." Toad replied, gazing at the girl before him with golden eyes then glancing at Beast for confirmation.

"At least a day." Beast announced.

"Brilliant." The green-skinned mutant grumbled. Talking in a normal tone of voice he continued, "Those books'd be great then, love." To Toad's surprise, a slight blush made its way onto the cheeks of the woman before him. Never having received this reaction from a woman before, Mort found himself eager to probe the situation. "I'm gonna need a bath too." He paused, giving her a sly grin. "Care to help me with that as well, love?"

Cheyenne felt like popping her wings and using them to cover her face as she felt the blood rush to her face, causing her skin, which was relatively pale from all of the time she spent indoors,to turn cherry red.

Beast, ever the gentleman, came to her rescue. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle for me as your bathing assistant." He eyed his patient critically. "We may have to cut your hair though."

Mort frowned, distracted from the thoughts working overtime in his brain about the girl before him and the fact that maybe taking the job Xavier offered was a blessing in disguise. "I like my 'air the way it is."

"You could always get rid of it." The professor joked, eyes twinkling with good humor. "You would not believe the time I save on shampooing and brushing."

Cheyenne giggled at this and the look of consternation on Toad's face at the suggestion. "If you want," she offered, " I could wash and comb out your hair."

"That'd be great." Toad felt ridiculously pleased. "Love." He felt even more pleased and smug to boot as the receding blush on Cheyenne's face flared up slightly at the endearment. 'For the first time in a long time,' Toad mused as the Professor escorted the woman with eyes like the ocean out of the med lab, 'things're lookin' up.'

If Remy LeBeau had seen the expression that flitted across the Professor's face as he wheeled out into the hallway he would have recognized. The telepath had worn it when he had first introduced the red-eyed Cajun to the feisty woman known as Rogue.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The X-men are the property of Marvel which is the property of Disney. I am neither of these organizations. Cheyenne, however, is my brain-child.

Comments/criticism are welcome but I ask that all criticism be constructive.

Hugs to all my readers! :)

Once again Cheyenne Jackson found herself perusing the shelves of the mansion's library. Her mood, however, was a far cry from the restlessness she'd experienced earlier. Instead, she felt rather, well, giddy.

'He was hitting on me.' She pulled a recent edition of Tolkien from the shelf that was composed of all three books of The Lord Of The Rings trilogy. A grin crossed the Texan's face as she continued down the row of books. 'It's definitely a good feeling to have someone think you're attractive.' Pausing, Cheyenne considered the shelf now in front of her. 'Agatha Christie…I wonder if they have…' She ran her fingers lightly across the spines of the novels, eyes questing for a specific title. "Ah-hah!" She crowed happily, pulling Death Comes As The End from the shelf.

Although she was fond of Agatha Christie's work in general, as a student of history Cheyenne naturally gravitated towards the archaeologically and historically themed mysteries. Death Comes As The End stood out as her favorite probably as it was unique in being set in ancient Egypt.

'I wonder if he's read it before.' Cheyenne pondered. 'At any rate, we can compare opinions.' The smile that hadn't seemed to be too far from her lips for the past half-hour resurfaced. Settling her newest selection into the small pile in her arms, a thought struck her. 'I don't have any doubt that he'll read all of these.' The smile on her face widened and she let out a small light-hearted laugh. 'If I had handed these to Jack all they would've done would be catch dust. Even if he wasn't stuck in the Med Lab, I'm sure Mort would read these.' Pleased at this comparison, Cheyenne adjusted the stack of books to fit more comfortably in her arms and, deciding that Beast had probably finished assisting Toad with his shower, headed toward the library's polished wooden doors.

* * *

><p>"Beast?" Cheyenne called out as she entered.<p>

"Back here, my dear."

Heading towards the cultured voice, Myth walked past the beds and made her way towards the examination room, where the Med Bay shower was located, and off of which Hank's office was situated. The Texan was feeling an odd mixture of pride and shyness. Cheyenne was proud of herself for keeping her wings in for the longest period of time while awake - almost two and a half hours. The shyness was a result of the cut-off period of her personal record. Toad hadn't seen her with her wings extended since he'd slept on her lap in a state of exhaustion caused by pain, mild starvation and drugs and she was feeling much like a thirteen-year old girl who'd just gotten braces and was now facing her first day at school. 'I'm being ridiculous.' Cheyenne told herself as she paused a few feet before the door of the examining room. 'Mort's a mutant too. He's green, for heaven's sake. He's not going to care.' Strengthened on this thought, Myth stood up tall, shifted the books in her arms so she could grasp the door knob in her hand and opened the door.

All personal thoughts fled from her mind as she took in Toad, face scrunched in discomfort, and eyes shut, as he lay on an examining table clad in a sweat suit emblazoned with the school's emblem . "Are you alright?" She inquired in concern, glancing between the green mutant and Hank, who was standing behind the table with his furry arms crossed.

"Mr. Toynbee has just learned that when a doctor tells a patient to stay put that it would behoove the patient to stay put."

" 'M foot felt fine. And it's Toad." Mort grumbled, opening his eyes to take in Myth, and feeling some balm for his now-aching foot in the obvious concern in the tone of her voice.

"Your foot felt fine because you are on pain medication." Hank stated dryly. "I suppose you feel like driving and operating heavy machinery as well."

"If I needed ta, I would." Toad replied, eying Cheyenne appreciatively. " 'Specially if she told me to." He punctuated his remark with a nod of his head in the winged mutant's direction, a sly grin pulling up the corners of his lips. His grin widened smugly as a blush lit up Myth's face and she smiled shyly back at him. In response to the widening of his grin, his sore lip twanged irritably, reminding him of the swift disciplinary smack to the back of the hand or knuckles that some of the nuns at the orphanage were wont to dispense with a ruler during lessons. This reminder was strengthened in Mort's mind by correlating it to the definite non-nun appropriate lines his thoughts, which had been veering towards a popular lingerie store named after a beloved British monarch in conjunction to the woman before him along the themes of 'avenging angel', had been following.

"Well then," Cheyenne shot back, fighting down the blush that had swamped her pale cheeks, "if you're doing things just because I tell you to then I'm telling you to do what Hank says."

"Alrigh', love, but that's nowhere near as fun."

"It's certainly better for your health at the moment though." Beast quipped, moving forward. "Now hold still. Myth, would you please hold his foot upright and still while I shift him back towards the sink?"

Complying with the blue doctor's request, Myth deposited the small stack of books in her arms on the end of the examining table and gently, and somewhat hesitantly, placed one hand around Mort's ankle and the other at the heel of his foot.

Once Cheyenne had lifted Toad's foot lightly off the table, Beast easily picked him up and shifted him so that his head was resting at the edge of the metallic sink embedded at the end of the examining table.

"There we are." He reached a hand out the sink, tapping the nozzles on either side of the faucet in turn. "Hot and cold. And," he reached down to the cabinet below the table and rummaged about for a few moments before emerging with a comb in one hand and a bottle of shampoo in another, "this should cover you. We use this table for lice treatments and screenings."

"Lovely." Toad muttered.

"Perfect." Cheyenne replied, taking the proffered implements. "We're all set then."

"Well, if you're fine down here, I may go upstairs for a snack."

"Feel free, I think Storm was headed to the kitchen to make some tea." The Texan said, recalling seeing the serene white-haired woman on her way to the elevator.

"Oh, a cup of tea would be wonderful!" Beast remarked, smiling and bringing a knowing smile to the face of the female who was moving to the sink in turn. "Buzz me on the intercom once you're done and I'll come down to move Toad back to his bed." Hank addressed the winged mutant, gesturing to the call button. "Don't you dare think of getting up yourself." He added, shifting his gaze to Toad. "I have no compunctions about strapping patients to their beds if the need arises."

"I've 'ad enough experience with 'ospital beds and straps to last a lifetime, thanks." Mort shot back as the blue-furred mutant exited the room.

"I believe it." Cheyenne agreed somberly, fingers hovering hesitantly above the thick mass of curly black hair before her. "Seeing you strapped up to that gurney was one of the worst things I've ever seen. If I had any doubts about the necessity of stopping the Friends of Humanity then that killed them. It made me glad I'd joined the X-men."

Mort tilted his head backwards to view the woman behind him. A devilish glint came into his golden eyes as they darted between the fingers hovering above his hair and the slightly bashful look that came across her face under his scrutiny.

"I was debating whether it would be easier to wash your hair and then comb it or comb it, then wash it." Cheyenne explained, seeking a lighter mood and feeling a little flushed under his gaze. 'Way to suck all the happiness out of a room.' She chided herself.

"Whatever you like, love." Mort replied, smiling up at her slyly. "Feel free ta break out the straps and 'ave your way with me."

"Oh!" Cheyenne practically yelped as her wings twitched in her surprise, knocking the shampoo bottle from where she'd placed it on the edge of the table. Bending down and scooping up the fallen bottle, Cheyenne emerged red-faced to face the green-skinned mutant with his head still tilted back, observing her through golden eyes. 'Oh dagnabit! Now he's going to think I'm some sort of spaz! He was the one to surprise me though. No one's ever really hit on me before other than Jack and never like that and he definitely wasn't teasing, he was flirting and oh goodness he's looking at me. Calm down, just calm down.' She told herself, feeling embarrassed and flustered.

Toad, meanwhile, was enjoying the sight of the pretty woman with wings his favorite color standing before him clasping a shampoo bottle, blushing fiercely.

"Ah-hem." Cheyenne cleared her throat, flicking her wings out a bit and then tucking them back neatly behind her. "Sorry, I'm still learning how to control these." She swallowed, and tucked an errant strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "I appreciate your trust in me though." She continued, the smirk of a woman who has just thought of an appropriate comeback causing her lips to pull upwards at the edges. "So I'll wash your hair then comb it."

Toad let out a dramatic gusty sigh as he settled his head back down. "No straps?"

"I don't think the straps will be needed." Cheyenne replied with dignity as she fiddled with the faucets. Testing the water temperature with a few fingers, the winged mutant adjusted the knobs a little more until she was satisfied that the water was pleasantly warm without being too scalding hot. Reaching forward, Cheyenne gently took hold of Mort's tangled, grimy curls and held them under the flow. "Mort, could you scoot back just a little?"

In response Mort wiggled back an inch, grunting a bit as he inadvertently jostled his bandaged foot. "Good?"

"Perfect, sorry." Cheyenne replied, holding her left hand along the border between his forehead and hair as she soaked his dirty hair with warm water. "I know your foot must be sore." Inwardly she berated herself, 'I should've lifted his foot up for him so he could move back to where I needed him.'

Mort's immediate response to this statement was a sigh of contentment so soft it was barely audible even to Cheyenne's elevated hearing as she began to gingerly massage his scalp and knead her fingers through his hair to ensure it was thoroughly wet. "So the wings then," he spoke after Cheyenne removed her hands from his hair to reach for the shampoo bottle, "that's yer mutation?"

"Yep." Myth confirmed, dispensing a generous amount of shampoo into the tangled black mass of Toad's hair. "I also have heightened senses and talons in my heels and elbows. Your basic dragon." She added, laughing a little shyly and feeling a bit like a first grader at show and tell.

"And dragons are mythological creatures-myths, Myth." Toad mused, eyes closing in delight as Cheyenne began to massage his scalp again as she brought the shampoo to a lather. "My guess was tha' you made illusions or sommat similar."

"Nope, purely physical mutation." Cheyenne reached for the shampoo bottle and squirted out a little more into her hand as she began to work on the hair around the base of his head. "At least as far as I know."

"Handy tha' you can retract 'em though." Mort remarked, a tinge of bitterness creeping into his tone. "Must 'ave given you plenty of trouble when they first popped out." He continued, recalling his own troubles when his tongue had first shot out of his mouth. A wince crossed his face in remembrance, he'd certainly lacked technique and control in those early days. 'Got me in a fair share of trouble too.' The emergence of his tongue had cemented the opinion of those nuns at the orphanage who thought he was a demon or cursed and in the end had ended up with him fleeing the stone building that he'd lived in since the day of his birth.

"Sorry, am I jostling you too much?" Cheyenne inquired, catching his wince.

"You're fine ,love."

Regardless of his reply, Cheyenne took extra care to be as gentle as possible as she began to rinse his hair. "They did give me plenty of trouble." She agreed, returning to his earlier comment. 'And cost me my favorite pair of sandals. I wonder what happened to them.' Cartoon-like she envisioned them dropping from the sky onto someone's windshield or head. 'It could have been much worse than a lost pair of shoes and a couple of hours in a cave though.' She glanced up at Mort, the bitterness that had crept into his tone hadn't gone unnoticed. 'He can't go anywhere unless he's completely covered up. Neither can Kurt or Hank for that matter, but they're not quite so touchy about it. Something must have happened to make him so bitter.'

"How old were you?"

A small smile came to Cheyenne's face. "I'm twenty-two."

Toad's yellow eyes opened as he processed this statement. "Bloody 'ell love, how long 'ave you known?"

"A little over a month now." Cheyenne considered, doing some mental math. "As near as we've been able to figure out though, my mutation actually manifested when I was fourteen." A small pang entered her heart as the image of a fourteen-year old Jack peering concernedly at her came to her mind. "Apparently I was subconsciously repressing my powers; I used to have the most awful headaches." Peace came back to her as she realized her regret for Jack was only for the loss of what she'd thought he'd been. 'What he really is, I don't regret at all. Fitting how my headaches began and ended with him.'

"I can imagine." Mort replied. "Explains why you're still learning how to control them, too." He rolled his eyes back to catch a glimpse of the woman now turning off the faucet. 'She must be somethin' else with those wings if Xavier let 'er go out with the X-men after only knowin' about her powers for a month.' Now feeling justified beyond a desire to keep the girl who he could make blush around, Toad felt it was time to warm her up to the Cause - Magneto could only be contained for so long, after all. "You were sayin' that the Friends of Humanity needed to be stopped, righ' love?"

"They do." Cheyenne remarked, wringing out his hair in an effort to get rid of the extra moisture. "Why do you ask?"

"It's not just the F.o.H. tha' need to be stopped. There're lots of people out there who'd happily support th' extermination of all mutants."

"There probably are." Cheyenne agreed evenly, separating a strand of his hair for combing. "But there are probably just as many who would happily support an integrated, accepting society." As gently as possible Myth began to run the black plastic teeth through Toad's inky hair. 'Trying to seduce me to the dark side, eh?'

Toad snorted. "Xavier's a good man, but him and the X-men…their goals are abou' as likely as me getting voted world's sexiest man."

"I'm a historian."

This non sequitur prompted Toad to tilt his head back once again to lock his gaze on eyes the color of the ocean.

"And if there's one thing I've learned," Cheyenne continued, "it's that nothing is impossible. Improbable maybe, but never impossible." Finishing the strand she'd been working on, Myth cleaned out the comb and began on another strand of hair, breaking eye contact with the green skinned mutant laying on the examining table.

"Improbable." Mort repeated, shaking his head. "Tell me, love, 'ow many of the people you knew from before still want anything to do with you?"

"I call my dad every day and keep in pretty much the same level of communication with my closest friends as before." Cheyenne paused as she tried to dislodge a particularly stubborn tangle as gently as possible. "Granted, I think they're all still adjusting to various degrees but I am too."

"You mentioned your dad, but what abou' your mom? And your friends-'ow many did you lose because you were different? Do you think the ones you kept would willingly walk down the street with you when you 'ave those wings out?" Mort persisted.

"If there was a need, they would." Cheyenne replied firmly. "I have three best friends. I used to have four before I knew I was a mutant, but my ex-boyfriend became my ex-friend when I walked in on him with another girl."

'What idiot would cheat on her.' Mort thought distantly, listening to the slight drawl in the woman's voice thicken in her passionate reply.

"That shock was part of how I found out about my mutation, but Jack never knew and to my knowledge doesn't know I'm a mutant so his ceasing to be my friend is hardly relevant. My mom…" Cheyenne trailed off, realizing she was waving the comb around. Composing herself, she returned her attention to Mort's hair. "My mother and older brother were killed in a car crash when I was six." She stated quietly as she ran the black plastic through Toad's curly hair. "Drunk driver. They wouldn't have cared though - either of them. Who knows, Johnny may have turned out to be a mutant too." She paused and continued in a normal tone of voice. "There are good and bad among all people Mort, mutant or not. I've never even met my maternal grandparents because they disapproved of my mother marrying my father - and he's a perfectly normal human being."

"I get your point, love but that still doesn't make the idea of an integrated society of humans and mutants any less improbable." Mort replied, pondering all that he'd just heard.

"Well," Cheyenne smiled, "I did just get you to go from thinking of it as improbable rather than impossible."

* * *

><p>"This is the place." Bobby stated, confirming the address the professor had given them with the faded numbers on the side of the building.<p>

"We won't have to worry about people reporting suspicious activity." Jubilee remarked, eying the dilapidated building.

"Uh-huh." Tabby agreed.

"Yo' should never judge a book by its cover." Gambit advised. "Just its contents."

"So moralizes the thief." Rogue commented dryly from the passenger seat of the black SUV the five X-men were currently situated in.

"It's sound wisdom, chere." Remy's red eyes twinkled mischievously as he turned into the parking lot adjoining the run-down apartment building. " 'Specially for a thief-people come up with interesting places to hide their valuables." He pulled into a parking spot barely denoted by barely visible white paint among the cracked cement.

"Inside a book?" Bobby asked skeptically. "Isn't that a little, I don't know, "Scooby-Doo"?"

"Jus' call me Fred." Gambit turned off the car and shot a grin to those in the back seat.

"Ah don't think you could pull off Fred, sugah." Rogue remarked, handing the box of garbage bags she'd pulled from the supply closet before leaving the mansion to Jubilee, who stashed them in her fashionably oversized purse.

"Scott would be Fred and Jean would be Daphne." Tabby agreed.

"Scott's not a blonde though." Bobby pointed out.

"But personality-wise." Tabby persisted.

"Well, yeah, I could see it." Bobby admitted.

"And Jean would be a dead ringer for Daphne." Jubilee put in. "She could so pull off that purple mini-dress."

"More power to her." Rogue stated.

"Awww, chere, yo' don't want to be my Daphne?"

"Ah like the color purple, but Ah don't love it to the point Ah want to wear it everyday."

"You could pull off purple though." Jubilee mused thoughtfully. "You really need to broaden your color wheel." The petite Asian girl snapped her fingers. "Group shopping trip!" She declared.

"Ohhh!" Tabby nodded in agreement.

Rogue sighed as she unbuckled her seatbelt and Gambit chuckled as he opened his door, prompting the Mississippi girl to level a glare at the Cajun. "Don't mock mah pain, swamp rat."

"But you'd look so pretty in purple, river rat." Remy replied smoothly. "But then yo' are beautiful so you look pretty in just abou' anything."

Rogue rolled her eyes at this, but a small smile graced her face as she climbed out of the car.

"Awwww!" Jubilee remarked, momentarily side-tracked from the shopping trip she was now planning.

"Uhhhh!" Bobby countered, groaning. "I'm going to get a cavity from all the sweetness."

"You're just jealous." Tabby dismissed with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

Conversing spiritedly the five X-men made their way to the dilapidated apartment building to see if the Friends of Humanity had left anything in the tiny, run-down apartment formerly occupied by the mutant known as Toad.

"Let's be chill about moving the stuff out just in case there're any law-abiding citizens at home." Tabby cautioned quietly as the group moved towards a creaky set of stairs after noting an out-of-order sign on the elevator.

"During the day-time?" Bobby remarked. "Wouldn't they all be at work?"

"Not necessarily." Jubilee shot back.

"Strippers." Tabby stated decidedly.

"Since when are strippers law-abiding citizens?"

"Since when are strippers not law-abiding citizens?" Gambit countered. "Remember the stirring tale of Mata Hari that Myth told us?"

"Just be cautious, Bobby." Rogue instructed, bemused.

"Remember Mata Hari!" Gambit announced, raising his hand dramatically in the air as he started to ascend the stairs.

* * *

><p>"This is positively delicious!" Beast enthused as he sipped his second cup of tea.<p>

"Why thank you, Hank." Ororo replied, pleased as she sipped her own cup. "I always add just a hint of mint."

"Its very refreshing." The blue-furred doctor sighed as he took another sip of tea. "We should take tea together more often."

"We should indeed." Ororo agreed, smiling at the man across from her.

"Hank." A voice stated softly over the intercom.

"Ah, Cheyenne must be finished washing Toad's hair."

"Yes." Storm tapped the side of her cup in deliberation. "But why is she whispering over the intercom?"

"I'm all finished with Mort's hair, but he fell asleep halfway through me combing out the tangles so please be quiet when you enter the lab." The Texan's voice came over the intercom in a hushed whisper.

"Well, that explains it." Beast remarked in amusement. Standing, he drained the last of his tea and carried his cup and saucer to the sink.

"Indeed, it does." Storm replied thoughtfully.

"Thank you again for the tea, Ororo." Beast gave the white-haired woman a grin which quickly became almost goofy in its proportions as she smiled back, prompting her own smile to soften sweetly.

"Anytime, Hank." As the blue mutant headed towards the med bay, Storm rose from the kitchen table and, after placing her cup and saucer in the sink, pulled down a clean cup from the cupboard. Humming softly under her breath, she poured out a generous serving of tea from the teapot into the cup. Carefully the weather witch placed the cup on a saucer and carrying both, exited the kitchen and headed towards the only other tea aficionado residing in the mansion.

Still humming under her breath, the woman shifted the saucer to her left hand as she raised her right to knock on the oak of the door leading to Charles Xavier's study.

"Come in."

"Cup of tea, Charles?" The white-haired mutant offered.

"Oh, splendid. Thank you Ororo." The telepath answered, taking the proffered cup.

"Mort?" Storm inquired, a teasing lilt to her voice as the older man took a sip of his tea. "Match-making again, Professor?"

"Me? A match-maker?" The telepath questioned innocently, flashing the weather witch a charming smile. "Nonsense. If I occasionally see two people who would do well together then, perhaps, arrange for them to spend a little time together that's hardly match-making."

"Mmm-hmmm." Storm hummed knowingly.

"Speaking of which," the professor said as he took another sip of his tea, "how was tea with Hank?"

"Wonderful." Storm admitted with a smile. "Things are going very well."


	8. Chapter 8

I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I was experiencing writer's block while simultaneously knowing where I wanted the plot to go- so very frustrating. Then of course, I get on a roll and I had to make a conscious decision to end the chapter or this would have been far too long. Down side is that this is a little on the short side, the bright side is that there shouldn't be as quite a long as wait for the next chapter. :)

To Dontgotaclue88: I'm so glad you liked it! I hope you continue to enjoy it :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men. Marvel own them…and Disney owns Marvel. I only own Cheyenne!

As always, comments/criticism are welcome but please keep all criticism constructive!

* * *

><p>Toad stirred, blinking his eyes blearily in the haze induced by waking from sleep, and sleepily perplexed to find himself in a spot different than the one he'd fallen asleep in. Movement at the foot of his bed caused his golden eyes to shoot fully open and for him to spring upright, shedding all sleepiness for alertness of the unknown.<p>

"Easy dere, mon ami." Gambit said. "I come bearing dinner." He demonstratively raised his hands, showing off the tray he was holding.

"Dinner?" Mort inquired. " 'Ow long 'ave I been asleep?"

"The whole day." Gambit replied cheerfully, dexterously switching the tray to one hand and flipping the bedside table into position with the other. "Yo' fell asleep while Puff was combing your hair."

Mort rubbed his eyes as Remy deposited his meal on the bedside table. Then he paused. "Puff?"

"Oui." Gambit confirmed. " 'Bout so high." He placed a hand on his chest indicating Cheyenne's stature. "Wings, claims to not be a magic dragon who lives by the sea."

Mort snorted at this, lifting the cover over his plate. "And you are?" He inquired, picking up a fork to start on the pasta dish before him. "Don' recall beating you up before."

"No one does." Gambit said smoothly. "I'm Remy LeBeau, better known as Gambit. O' Le Diable Blanc. Whatever suits yo' fancy."

Mort blinked at the hand stretched in front of his face. Then he smirked as the impact of this response sunk in, briefly placing his own hand in Gambit's proffered one as he decided that the red-eyed bloke had style, at least. "Toad."

"Nice to see you not snoring and drooling over Puff's lap." The Cajun remarked pleasantly, leaning against the wall. "Speaking o' which," Gambit continued, ruby eyes twinkling mischievously, "she was going to bring your supper down herself but the other femmes pulled her off for yoga."

Mort chewed the mouthful of pasta he'd just forked into his mouth contemplatively, and a bit distractedly, thoughts slipping once again into lines that would have shocked the nuns who he had spent his early years with.

"So I volunteered, well," Remy corrected himself, "I volunteered after they once again declined my benevolent offer to spot them." He sighed theatrically, amused to note that the green-skinned Brit had just realized he'd been chewing the same mouthful of food for the past minute and swallowed. "Besides, I stopped by yo' charming former residence today and thought I should tell you not to expect that security deposit back."

"Ah." Mort stated in grim comprehension, loading his fork with another bite of pasta. "Trashed?"

Gambit nodded. "We did manage to salvage some o' your clothes, and the memory card out of your video game system. Your bike stayed safe in the parking garage you left it in."

"Well, that's a relief at least." Mort mused, pleased to hear that his baby had survived. He'd put a lot of work, and parts acquired by means of various legality or lack thereof, into his motorcycle.

"We laundered your clothes and put 'em in your soon-to-be-room, once Hank lets you out o' his lair dat is." Remy looked around him at the sterile environment, feeling distinctly fidgety despite the absence of anyone who would want to poke, prod or measure him. "Yo' want to get out of here for a bit? There was talk of an Ultra Galaxy Wars tournament in the rec. room."

"You offerin' to carry me?" Mort inquired wryly, pointing his fork at his bandaged foot. "Tried movin' on my own earlier and it 'urt like 'ell."

"Hmmm…I could liberate some crutches for you, or-!" Gambit snapped his fingers, grinning. "I'll go arrange yo' transportation." The Cajun strode out of the lab.

Mort found out what Gambit had in mind several minutes later when the noise that heralded Nightcrawler's appearances and disappearances surprised him into choking on the last bite of his dinner.

"Hello." Kurt greeted.

"Wot is it with you people and poppin' out of nowhere?" Mort coughed.

* * *

><p>"Shopping tomorrow!" Tabby cheered, pumping her hands in the air as she led the way down the stairs.<p>

"I can so use this trip after spending so much time in the computer lab." Kitty mused cheerfully. "There's nothing like therapeutic shopping."

"Says you." Rogue muttered darkly.

Storm chuckled. "Come, Rogue, one would think we were offering to torture you."

"We?" Jubilee questioned eagerly, as Rogue muttered something about the mall being torture. "So you're going to come too?"

"It will be nice to get out of the mansion for awhile." Storm remarked. "And you were kind enough to invite me."

"Great! You can help us pick Rogue out some clothes that aren't green, brown, or black." Tabby stated as they rounded the landing. "And we can find Cheyenne some backless tops."

"What?" Myth, who'd been pondering whether or not it was wise for her to venture in public, spoke in surprise. "What's wrong with the tops I have now?"

"I like earth tones." Rogue maintained stubbornly.

"We know." Kitty told the Mississippi girl. "You wear them everyday."

"I'll see you ladies tomorrow." Storm stated, smiling at their interchange as she headed off to her room.

There was a chorus of goodnights directed at Storm as the group parted ways from the weather witch, heading towards the recreation room.

"Nothing's wrong with the tops you have now." Jubilee remarked as they turned the corner. "But popping your wings in and out is hard on the material."

"Totally!" Kitty nodded in agreement. "Like, this way you can have some variety and keep your wardrobe in good condition."

"I suppose." Cheyenne remarked dubiously. "I'm not sure I'm really comfortable with showing that much skin." The Texan put forth, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face as the group of girls entered the rec. room.

Recognizing Myth's voice, Mort punched the pause button of the controller he was hunched over. "'Ow much skin are you showin', love?" To his mild disappointment, the petite winged mutant was not clad in tight pants and a skimpy top but rather in a pair of loose fitting sweat-pants similar to the pair he had on and an equally loose fitting blue t-shirt.

The girls blinked at the sight of Toad, bad foot propped up on a pillow on the coffee table, Gambit, Nightcrawler, and Iceman sitting on the couch with game controllers clutched in their hands. Tabby, who had once received a glob of slime to the face courtesy of Toad, shifted behind Jubilee, subconsciously cursing being the tallest of the group.

"What are you doing out of the med. lab?" Cheyenne inquired in concern. "You should be resting!"

"I rested all day." Mort informed her.

"You still shouldn't be on that foot." Kitty put in, recovering herself.

"He vasn't." Kurt assured her. "I ported him up and I vill port him down once we're done."

"And Ah bet Ah know whose bright idea that was." Rogue drawled, putting a hand to her hip as she locked eyes with Remy. "Looks like the Swamp Rat's projecting his fear of the med bay on other people."

"It's not a fear, chere." Remy corrected. "I'm jus' being cautious."

"You have to watch those crafty inanimate objects down there." Bobby grinned, earning a giggle from Jubilee.

"Says the boy who has to be dragged down there to get his shots." Rogue shot back, prompting an amused snort from Tabitha.

"Hey! Those big needles hurt!" Bobby defended.

Remy treated him to a smug look.

"No comments about him justifying your paranoia, swamp rat?" Rogue queried, pushing a stray strand of white hair behind her ear. "I'm shocked."

"Caution." Gambit corrected. "And I didn't feel the need, 'specially after you justified it for me, my belle 'lil river rat."

"Now, wot was all that about you showing skin, love?" Mort addressed the Texan, more interested in the wardrobe choices of the winged mutant than the banter the X-men were currently engaging in.

"They're trying to talk me into getting some backless tops." Cheyenne explained.

"Well, that'd be easier for you to let those wings out, righ'?" Mort encouraged, needing no contemplation to be all in favor of the pretty girl who he could make blush show more skin.

"Ye-es." Myth drawled uncertainly. "But I don't like the idea of walking around with that much skin on display. Plus, what would I do about my bra? Either it'd show or I'd just have to go…" She trailed off, flushing as Mort grinned wickedly at her.

"I'd 'ave no problems with that." The green-skinned mutant informed her, golden eyes trailing down her form before returning to meet her own.

"Most tops like that have built in bras, I think." Rogue commented, distracted from her conversation by Myth's comment and subsequent red-face.

"Bras?" Remy inquired alertly, immediately interested in this non-sequitur.

"Et tu, Rogue?" Myth asked.

"Backless tops and tanks generally have built-in bras." Jubilee confirmed wisely.

"Misery loves company." Rogue replied cheerfully.

"Oh!" Tabby grinned. "We should totally get you some tanks."

"No!" Myth replied emphatically. "I draw the line at tanks." She pointed a finger at Toad, who was opening his mouth. "Not one word from you!" She ordered, blush still on her face.

Toad mimed zipping his lips, highly amused by this display of spirit, and highly in favor of getting her in a tank top.

"Hmmm…" Jubilee pondered, considering Toad. "We should grab you a few things too." She decided, overcoming her mistrust of Magneto's follower in her passion for fashion.

"I'm good." Mort replied shortly, a little taken aback from the petite Asian girl stepping forward from where the girls, excepting Cheyenne, had clustered near Bobby and Kurt, who were sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and eyeing him critically.

"Resistance is futile." Bobby informed him.

"It's true." Kurt agreed. "Jubilee can not be stopped vhen she gets that look in her eyes. She did pick me out a nice variety of sweaters though."

"I have taste." Jubilee announced with an airy wave of her hand. "You only have three shirts and two pairs of pants." She addressed Toad. "We're getting you some clothes."

" 'M fine." Mort reiterated in a tone that brooked no rebuke.

"No, you're not." Kitty pointed out. "You don't have enough clothes to make it through one week. Not to mention, you don't have any underwear. "

"Don' need it." Toad maintained.

"Ewww!" Tabby shuddered, as the other girls made various noises of disgust at this.

"Chaton has a point, homme." Gambit remarked, ignoring the display of repulsion from the feminine half of the room.

"That is disgusting." Rogue informed Toad.

"We're getting you underwear, Mort." Cheyenne said sternly, placing a hand on her hip. "I'm sure the Professor will give us some money in lieu of your first paycheck to get you a few things."

"Yes, m'am!" He smirked at her. "As long as you're in the underwear department, y' might as well get me a souvenir."

Cheyenne bit her lip, trying to fight yet another blush. 'What's wrong with me? I'm not fifteen, for goodness sakes! I survived that biography on Freud for heaven's sake, and who knows how many documentaries and essays on Henry the Eighth I've been exposed too.'

"I'd like a souvenir too, Roguey." Gambit told the Mississippi girl mischievously. "Maybe somethin' purple and lacy to go with that Daphne-esque mini-dress Jubilee's going to get you."

"Certainly." Rogue replied brightly. "Then we'd match!"

* * *

><p>Cheyenne trailed a finger experimentally across ivory keys. 'Lovely tone.' She pondered, pleased at the familiar feel of a piano's keys beneath her fingers. She had been one of the first up that morning and had eaten a rather light breakfast. That is, it became a light breakfast following her praising the piano located near the library. The Professor had graciously accepted her compliments and, to her delight, immediately offered her free use of it, citing that he and Hank didn't spend near enough time playing it as the instrument deserved.<p>

'Odd that Hank wasn't at breakfast.' Myth thought, letting her fingers skim along the keys in a favorite run from a Bach masterpiece. "I wonder what he's up to." She mused aloud, switching to a swing piece, grin tugging up her lips at the upbeat rhythm. The grin fell as another thought struck her. 'I hope Mort's alright. Hopefully he didn't stay up too late playing video games.'

The girls had disbanded for sleep not much later after they had settled on leaving for the mall after breakfast. The boys in the rec. room, on the other hand, had still been happily wearing out their thumbs. The image of Mort focused on the screen with his fingers pressing buttons rapidly, the tip of his tongue just pressing out of his mouth in concentration, charmed the corners of her mouth to tilt upwards once again. 'I'm sure I'd have heard if something serious was going on.' She shook her head, smile still in place as she remembered his parting words.

"Don' forget my souvenir, love!" He'd reminded her, flickering his golden eyes from the TV screen to her face. Then a frown had tugged at his lips. "And watch what that Chinese girl picks out." Then the frown had morphed into a smirk. "You know I only trust you to 'ave your wicked way with my wardrobe-to say nothin' of my physical self."

'He looked like a little boy sitting there, then he came up with that.' Cheyenne mused, pausing in her playing to reach a hand up to scratch her wing. She had decided to leave her wings out until the last possible moment in order to help maximize her time with them in while shopping. As Kitty had pointed out the night before, she could always run to the bathroom and let her wings out if she needed to, but Myth didn't want to have to seek refuge in a bathroom stall too many times. 'I'd rather people not think I have bladder control issues.' The Texan thought wryly, stretching her wings out a bit before folding them neatly behind her once more as her hands once again answered the siren call of the gleaming piano keys.

* * *

><p>In the underground levels of the Xavier mansion, Hank McCoy was blinking his eyes open to find that he'd fallen asleep over the project he'd been working on the night before. Raising his fuzzy blue arms above his head in a stretch, Beast yawned. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he looked down at the pieces of paper and amalgamation of technology hammered together before him that vaguely resembled a watch. Then he shook his head, ruefully wiping a bit of drool away from the notes he had fallen asleep perusing. "Not that it changes their legibility in the slightest." He remarked, smiling nostalgically at the piece of paper. "Forge's handwriting always resembled hieroglyphics more than English." He sighed, glancing around the cluttered lab space that he hadn't visited in years. "What happened to you?" He questioned softly, addressing the workspace as a substitute for his long-missing friend.<p>

Squinting at the notes, he picked them up and moved them closer to his face. "This would certainly be a lot easier if you were here to decode these for me." Then a small smile crept onto his face. "You always teased me about being crazy about her - you were entirely right."


	9. Chapter 9

I'm alive! I seem to have gotten over my writer's block so chapters should be coming more regularly (hopefully) from here on out. Hugs to all you wonderful folks who have reviewed and followed! Thanks for keeping me motivated!

Disclaimer: X-men is the property of Marvel, which is owned by Disney. Cheyenne, however, is my intellectual property.

In his bed in the med bay, Toad woke up blearily. He smacked his lips at the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth and winced at the stinging reminder that his lower lip had a piercing forcibly removed from it. Sitting up in bed, he cast his eyes around for liquid refreshment, or the normal lab-coated persona that provided it but saw no sign of the blue-furred doctor. A bit of white caught his eye and he noticed that a slip of paper had been taped to the sidebar of his bed.

'Toad,

You slept through breakfast and I didn't want to leave anything out for fear it would spoil. I'm working on a project down the hall- hit the call button I've left you when you're ready to have breakfast. DO NOT TRY TO GET UP.

-Hank'

"Water doesn't spoil." The green-skinned mutant muttered irritably, casting his eyes about for the aforementioned call button. Spotting a red button in a square plastic frame affixed to the opposite sidebar of his bed, he pressed it.

* * *

><p>Down the hallway, the device associated with Mort's call button emitted a shrill, obnoxious beep that startled Hank, who had been bent over his work in deep concentration. In his surprise, he inadvertently jumped backwards and knocked a device that resembled a stereo off of one of the many cluttered shelves in the workspace. A green light flickered on and the device began to add to the general cacophony of the call button operated by the thirsty amphibious mutant by producing a high whirring noise.<p>

"Oh, dear." Hank murmured, backing up as the top of the device began to slowly slide open.

* * *

><p>While a rather interesting series of events was being set in motion in the lower levels of the mansion, the mansion's current female residents were at the local mall.<p>

"We try to find variation in the places we send them for summer vacation," Storm was saying as she browsed a clothes rack, "but as some of them share the same predicament as Hank, it is difficult."

"I can imagine." Myth responded sympathetically, her mind immediately turning to a green individual who had eventually become branded as a terrorist as a result of society's response to his outward appearance. 'We can hit the men's department of the store next door after we're done in here.' She thought, a little excited at the prospect of shopping for Mort. A small smile pulled at her lips at the thought of him, leaning his head back on the sofa with a game controller clutched in his hands, as she flipped through shirts on the other side of the rack. She paused, both in movement and in her train of thought, as she came upon a promising shirt. 'The back looks low enough.' She considered. 'And the front isn't equally low.' Checking out the sleeves, she noted that they would only come to just above her elbows. 'Perfect.' She thought, pleased as she pulled the black button-up top from the rack. "Hey Storm, what do you think of this?"

"Hmm.." Storm considered, coming to her side and measuring the back of the top with her fingers. "It looks about right to me, but just to be sure you had better try it on." She smiled. "It comes in multiple colors as well, so you will not have to have variety forced upon you." She nodded her head to the corner of the boutique occupied by Rogue, Kitty and Jubilee.

Kitty was proffering a beige mini-skirt and pink leggings at Rogue, who was steadily repulsing them. Upon hearing Myth's giggle, she stuck her tongue out at them, catching the gist of their conversation.

"I'm going to go try this on." Cheyenne stated, smiling, and made her way to the back of the store. Finding a changing stall, she deposited her purse on the tiny bench and closed the door. She slid off her t-shirt, tossing it on top of her purse.

She undid the few buttons done on the top and threaded her arms through the sleeves, pulling on the probable purchase. Nimbly she buttoned up the front and turned to catch her reflection in the stall's mirror. 'Good,' she mused, 'it just covers my bra.' She chewed her lip thoughtfully. 'But just to be sure everything fits ok, I should probably try it with my wings out. Probably best to take it off, let my wings out then put it back on. I don't want to accidentally rip anything.'

Cheyenne was half-way through the buttons on her potential new top when a beeping sound from the confines of her purse alerted her that she had a text message. Pushing aside her t-shirt, Cheyenne rifled through her purse until she came up with her cell phone and selected the new message alert.

Text Message from Dan Evans to Angela Rodriguez and Cheyenne Jackson: Hey, can I call you guys later? I need your advice.

'Hmm, what are you up to ?' Cheyenne mused, typing a reply.

Text Message from Cheyenne Jackson to Dan Evans and Angela Rodriguez: I'm out shopping with some people right now then we're getting lunch. Would around three your time be alright?

Text Message from Angela Rodriguez to Cheyenne Jackson and Dan Evans: Works 4 me, I'm having lunch with my abuela. What's up Muffins?

Text Message from Dan Evans to Angela Rodriguez and Cheyenne Jackson: I want to ask a girl out and I want y'alls opinion on whether the way I have in mind is over the top

Text Message from Angela Rodriguez to Dan Evans and Cheyenne Jackson: If this girl is Magdalena Martin, I WILL hit you with a brick!

"Amen to that." Cheyenne agreed aloud. Dan was a sweet, easy-going guy and by some cruel trick of fate had ended up dating Magdalena Martin in their high school days, a girl who shared none of his personality traits. The literary-minded Cheyenne had taken to calling the fair-haired and complexioned girl the White Witch to her friends and they had similarly taken up the nickname, although occasionally they had felt the need to make a single letter alteration to the second half. The relationship had ended badly and Dan hadn't been out on a date since.

Text Message from Dan Evans to Angela Rodriguez and Cheyenne Jackson: I'd hit myself over the head with a brick if I even considered dating the White Witch again. Trust me, she's no Magdalena. I'll talk to y'all at 3. Happy shopping and lunching.

" 'Atta boy!" Myth praised, pulling off the top and placing her phone on top of her purse. Carefully she extended her wings, making sure that they didn't show over the top of the stall. She sighed in relief as the tension she'd been starting to feel in her back abated.

There was a soft, smooth swishing noise as, in her relaxation, her talons slid free.

"Oh." She commented, glancing at her elbows and feet. "Oops." Sighing, she concentrated on retracting her talons alone. No sooner had she succeeded than her cell phone beeped, startling her and causing her talons to pop free once more.

"Dagnabit!" Cheyenne fumbled for her phone, irritated.

Text Message from Angela Rodriguez to Cheyenne Jackson and Dan Evans: Good boy! Cheyenne-get over your fear of people seeing your shoulders and buy some tank tops! Ttyl!

'It's not a fear.' Cheyenne thought grouchily, concentrating once more on retracting her talons while keeping her wings extended. 'I'm just not comfortable showing that much skin.'

* * *

><p>'It was an honest mistake.' Cheyenne told herself, carefully placing her tray containing her lunch on a suitable table in the mall's picnic court. 'So quit blushing!' She scolded herself, slinging her purse over the back of a chair and depositing three shopping bags on the floor.<p>

Only one bag contained clothing that she'd purchased for herself. She had ended up buying five of the shirt that she had tried on, in different colors, and a black pencil skirt shorter than what she normally wore that Jubilee had talked her into buying.

The other two bags contained the purchases she had made on Mort's behalf, with the rest of the group's, though primarily Jubilee's, input. When they had gone to check-out, the salesclerk, a pleasant gentleman close to retirement age, had commented on her and Rogue's accents. They had exchanged pleasantries and as they made their departure, he commented that her husband was a very lucky man.

The group hadn't gotten thirty feet from the counter when snickers and giggles had broken out all around.

"Cheyenne!" Jubilee had mock-scolded. "How could you not invite us to the wedding!"

"Really, Mrs. Toad!" Kitty had played along, teasingly. "The nerve!"

Amused by this occurrence, the group of ladies had made their way up to the mall's picnic court to have lunch, with a blushing Cheyenne in tow.

The blush on her face, which she was still fighting down, was less a result of the salesclerk's honest mistake than what her immediate mental reaction to it had been: 'I wouldn't mind waking up to him every morning.' Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne rearranged her napkin as she attempted to rearrange her thoughts which were circulating around the realization that she not only liked the green mutant in the cordial way of a person that she'd helped rescue from a bad situation but she liked him in the way that meant she wanted him to continue hitting on her and only her.

"Crowded in here today." Rogue commented, slinging her own purse over the back of a chair and placing her tray on a table.

"Yes, it is." Cheyenne agreed automatically, drawn out of a series of thoughts that ran along the lines of : 'He has nice biceps. Rebound? He likes Tolkien. He hits on me. I like him hitting on me! I bet he has nice abs too.. Huh?!' She studied Rogue's face as the Mississippi native settled down across from her. "Does it being crowded make you uncomfortable?"

"Eh," Rogue replied, "it doesn't bother me as much when I know I'm covered, but it does bother me. Though Ah think it's more me being defensive than anything else."

"I can understand that." Cheyenne nodded. "But," she added trying to strike a lighter tone, "we must make these sacrifices for fashion!"

Rogue snorted. "I'd rather let fashion die in a corner and go for a ride on mah bike. Although," She admitted, "I did end up getting some nice things today. Don't tell Kitty or Jubes though- then they'll try to drag me shopping every weekend."

"Shopping every weekend?" Kitty inquired, catching the tail-end of that statement as she approached the table. "Have we finally gotten you to see the joys of retail, Rogue?"

Cheyenne chuckled as Rogue grimaced in exaggerated distaste, while Kitty stashed her purchases under a chair. "Not a chance, Kitty. I'm still shocked that you managed to cajole me into buying things."

"Well, Jubilee did help." Kitty admitted gracefully with overdone poise, raising a hand to rest over her heart. "Seriously though, Rogue, I'm glad you came with us today."

* * *

><p>"This belt is going to look spectacular with my outfit for the fourth next week!" Jubilee crowed, holding up her shopping bag with a pleased look on her face as Storm pulled into the garage at the mansion.<p>

"You already know what you're going to wear?" Cheyenne asked in surprise.

"You're surprised? I thought we'd already established Jubes' passion for fashion." Rogue commented dryly from the passenger seat.

"Well, she is the main event, so to speak." Storm reasoned as she put the car in park.

Tabitha sighed. "It just won't be the same without Jean telekinetically throwing up those colored powder balls for Scott to blast, though."

"Hey!" Jubilee whacked her friend on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "Our routine will be fabulous!"

"Oh, it totally will!" Tabby agreed, raising a hand to defend against further smacks. "Just tradition, ya know?"

"I get what you're saying." Rogue commented as she climbed out of the vehicle, shopping bags slung over her arm.

"It's tough to see things change." Kitty pointed out from the third row of seats as Jubilee and Tabby slid out of the vehicle.

"So, Jean's a telepath like the Professor and Scott blasts things?" Myth inquired, trying to follow the line of conversation as she had yet to meet the honeymooning mutants as she patiently waited for Tabby to lower the seat back so she could escape the third row.

"Yep!" Kitty verified cheerfully, opting to phase through the third row rather than have Jubilee lower the seat back to let her out on her side.

"From his eyes." Tabby elaborated. "We call him Cyclops."

"Wait," Cheyenne queried in confusion as Tabby flipped the lever and lowered the seat for her, "You said eyes, so why Cyclops?"

"Scott can not control his powers." Storm explained patiently as the Texan climbed out of the vehicle with her shopping bags slung over her arms. "The visor that he generally wears for control is a single piece, hence Cyclops."

"Oh, I see."

Rogue chuckled. "Ya know, it never really occurred to me that with that nickname the general conclusion would be that Scott only has one eye."

Jubilee pulled a face at this, envisioning Scott Summers with only one huge eye in the middle of his forehead.

As the group left the garage, Cheyenne paused as the other girls made for the upper levels of the mansion to deposit their purchases. 'Should I drop off Mort's stuff first?' She considered.

"Are you going to drop off Toad's clothing?" Storm inquired from beside her, remaining behind as Kitty, Rogue and Tabitha headed up the stairs.

"Yes, I think I should." Cheyenne confirmed.

"I'll go with you." Storm said as the two began to make their way to the elevator. "I want to check on Hank. He's started working on a project, and when he gets involved he forgets to eat."

"They have to be in the kitchen." Kitty proclaimed, leading the mansion's slightly worried female population forward. "Piotr wouldn't leave without leaving me a note if they'd gone somewhere."

"I hear them in there." Cheyenne announced, relief in her voice as her elevated hearing picked up on the hushed sound of familiar voices from up ahead.

"What on earth are they up to?" Rogue queried interestedly as the group moved at a quick pace towards the kitchen.

Storm and Myth's visit to the lower level of the mansion had found an empty med lab, empty laboratory space, an empty danger room and silence to their knocks on the men's changing room. They had gone upstairs to find Rogue, Jubilee and Tabby standing at the top of the stairs in perplexed discussion. After exchanging information, and discovering that both the upper and lower levels of the mansion were empty the women had gotten rather concerned. Selecting the kitchen as the most likely grouping point for the bunch of males, they had set off with Cheyenne and Rogue still having shopping bags slung over their arms.

"There you all are!" Kitty proclaimed happily as they moved through the doorway to see all of the mansion's males gathered around, chips, sodas, and in Logan's case, beer scattered around them.

The guys turned at this, revealing an unfamiliar face in their midst.

" 'Ro!" The unfamiliar man, who had warm brown eyes and rather shaggy brown hair, called out happily, beaming.

"Forge!" Storm cried, rushing forward to hug the man.

* * *

><p>Cheyenne finished putting away the last of her new clothes, fitting the hanger head over the bar in her closet and pushed an errant strand of dark brown hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. Glancing at her bedside clock, she was surprised to find that it was just about time for dinner.<p>

'I suppose it makes sense though,' she thought, 'I spent a long time downstairs before I came up to call Ange and Dan.' She shook her head in remembrance. "It sounds like something out of Star Trek." She told her empty room.

Forge, who was apparently a technopath and inventor, had been working on a teleportation device when he had an accident.

"In hindsight," he had mused while recounting the story again for the girls' benefit, " I really shouldn't have had that orange soda sitting there."

"Oh, I love orange soda!" Tabby had interjected, grinning slightly manically.

"Me too!" Forge had replied enthusiastically, grinning back at her just as manically.

"Oh lord, think of the children." Bobby had muttered, earning snickers from those seated around him and an elbow to the ribs from Jubilee, who loyally attempted to swallow her giggle, and failed.

The device had activated and worked, though not as Forge had intended as it had trapped him in limbo, able to see the goings on at the mansion but unable to interact or be seen. He'd been literally trapped in time for years, coming out looking the same as he'd come in. "And I'd be there still if Hank hadn't knocked over that shelf in my lab!" He'd concluded happily, beaming at the mutant who was clearly his best friend.

After that they had all spent some time either getting to know or catching up with the technopath. It had been nice, Cheyenne mused, all of them sitting together talking and sharing snacks. Although if she was being completely honest with herself, the experience had been particularly pleasant for her since Mort had immediately made space for her next to him. She paused with a hand in her disheveled hair, recalling the way his face had lit up with laughter at the face she'd made when Forge had called her "the Texan with the pterodactyl wings". Coming to herself with a start, and realizing that she'd been standing for about half a minute dreamily pondering the dimple that appeared in Toad's left cheek when he smiled.

"Oh, dagnabit!" She sighed gustily, flopping onto her bed stomach first and giving her wings a half flap before letting them drape over her outstretched arms. He'd seemed pleased with what she'd bought him. The bandanas for his hair had been a good call, when he'd seen the one with the Union Jack plastered on it he'd grinned so widely he'd winced from his sore lip. She wasn't sure whether she was more relieved or disappointed that she'd had to go upstairs to take the call from Dan before he got to the bag with the boxers in it. She'd been, despite that she knew it would probably embarrass her and make her flush fire engine red, looking forward to what he'd say when he saw them.

' I really need to call Angela for some girl talk.' She thought , absently kicking her feet. 'Maybe she'll have some ideas on whether or not I'm rebounding or…' She rose with another sigh, hopping to her feet and pulling out her messy ponytail. Sliding the hair tie over her wrist, she padded to the bathroom and picked up her hairbrush from where she'd left it next to the sink. Brushing out her hair, she then proceeded to pull it back into another ponytail. She frowned at her reflection, noting the bumps as her hair refused to cooperate. 'Oh, why bother,' she thought, pulling out the ponytail once more, and opting to just leave her hair down, tucking the front strands behind her ears.

Mort paused distracted from the conversation he'd been participating in with Rogue, Remy and Logan concerning motorcycles when Cheyenne walked through the door. Her hair was down. It looked thick, and invitingly soft flowing over her shoulders and on her back and wings. His fingers positively itched to bury themselves in the mass of dark brown hair as he caught her eye and patted the chair next to him, grinning as she smiled and walked towards him.

"Everything okay back at home?" Kitty inquired, as Myth settled herself next to Toad and flashed a quick return smile to the Professor at the head of the table.

"Yeah, my friend wanted some feminine advice on a plan for asking a girl out."

"Ohhhh," Kitty replied, "and what's the plan?"

"Well, she routinely gets a cherry tart once a week so he's going to write 'Go out with me?' in whipped cream." She paused, doling out some pasta onto her plate as Mort passed her the bowl. "And give it to her for free of course."

"Awwww!" Kitty giggled. "That's so sweet!"

"Is he going to buy it in advance or get the bakery to do it?" Rogue inquired, interest piqued from the discussion on motor oil slowly giving way, as Logan and Remy also began to take an interest in the conversation.

"His family owns the bakery." Cheyenne explained. "It's how he met her, though she went to high school with us. She's a nice girl; she was a viola."

"Well, I'm glad she was able to recover from being a stringed instrument." Remy put in impishly.

Myth stuck her tongue out briefly at Gambit while Rogue lightly slapped him upside the head with a gloved hand.

"You were in the orchestra?" Toad asked, extrapolating from the clear unspoken 'she's one of us' tone in her voice.

"Yes," Cheyenne confirmed, making contact with penetrating topaz eyes, "I was the pianist."

"You know," Jubilee mused aloud, "we should really get you together with Angel. You two are cut from the same cloth."

"Angel, huh?" Cheyenne remarked innocently, while Toad stiffened next to her, mechanically chewing the piece of food in his mouth and swallowing. "Does she play the piano?"

There was a pregnant pause. Then the table erupted in laughter.

"Oh…my.." Tabby stuttered between giggles, finally bursting into an uncontrolled bout of laughter.

"Angel is a he." Professor Xavier, informed her in a highly amused tone of voice.

"Ohhhh!" Cheyenne replied in realization.

"He's got wings." Kitty explained. "They're feathery and white, hence Angel."

"And," Tabby added mischievously, "he looks the part too."

Next to Cheyenne, Mort clenched his fingers around his glass, only pulling back in time from shattering the cup with his grip to take a sip of his drink.

"Yes, yes he does." Rogue agreed.

"Ah, but we all know dat you prefer Le Diable Blanc, right chere?" Remy put in, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Rogue's response and the subsequent banter that followed between the two was lost on Cheyenne with Bobby's next comment.

"I can't wait to tell him this next time I see him. Warren Worthington the Third, Mr. Perfect Prince Charming…" here he broke into chuckles. " 'Does she play the piano?' "

Cheyenne paused, then let out a surprised bark of laughter. "I hope you weren't planning to set us up, Jubilee." Toad shifted in his seat and focused his golden eyes on her face, taking in the shocked cast to her features.

Jubilee raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"

"Worthington as in Worthington Industries, right?"

"Yes." Storm confirmed, the attention of the upper half of the table once again having been garnered.

"Then he's my cousin, and I'm not really that big into incest." She explained.

Toad who had been pondering the possible onset of the blonde winged mutant with cold loathing, relaxed at this and now leaned back in his chair. Content, he watched the Texan explain that her mother had been a Worthington, but upon her decision to marry Cheyenne's father, a small-town mechanic, that the Worthington's had disowned her and had ceased all contact.

Myth let out a small laugh. "I can't believe it. I have a cousin and we both have wings. It's crazy!"

"If you'd like," Professor Xavier offered, "I'm due to have a call from him sometime soon about a situation he was monitoring for us, and I could give him your phone number."

"I'd like that very much." Cheyenne responded gratefully, filled with nervous excitement at the thought of meeting a family member like herself. "Thank you!"

* * *

><p>Lying in bed that night, Cheyenne found herself unable to sleep. Thoughts ran through her brain without seeming to stop, alternating between the joy and slight apprehension of a family member who was also a mutant - her father had been very excited for her when she'd told him- and the mishmash of feelings brought on by her new 'neighbor'. This development she hadn't shared with her father. Toad was now ensconced in the room next to her, courtesy of Nightcrawler who had, with his customary good-natured charm, transported Toad to his new quarters and offered to do so until he could get around easily enough on his own. Toad had gratefully accepted, ready to be out of the Med bay.<p>

'He seemed pleased that I'm next door.' She thought, smiling and shaking her head as she recalled saying goodnight to him, how pleased he'd seemed at her concern that he could manage alright with his foot.

"Feel free ta stop by anytime to check on me love." He'd grinned at her impishly, dimple appearing in his left cheek. "Day or night."

"Dagnabit." She muttered, finding herself contemplating his dimple once again. 'I REALLY need to call Ange in the morning.' She thought, nestling into her pillow. Focusing on her breathing, she relaxed and slowly drifted off to sleep.


End file.
